


Stoned In Love

by coyg_81



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hogwarts Express, Lemons, Love, Smut, Summer of Love - Freeform, relationship, travelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 04:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 25,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15833376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyg_81/pseuds/coyg_81
Summary: Hermione hasn't seen Draco since the end of the war when he ran away. She bumps into him in the most unlikely of places... an Amsterdam Sex Shop! What will happen over the course of that summer, and what is Draco hiding?





	1. Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaintDionysus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintDionysus/gifts).



> Thanks to a prompt from SaintDionysus, I give you my entry to Strictly Dramione’s Summer Lovin — Back to Hogwarts, Writing Fest. This is for you, my friend x
> 
> Prompt: Awkward Reunion Dramione. They haven’t seen each other since the battle and run into each other in a sex shop in Amsterdam, followed by taking in The Netherlands’ favourite greenery. 
> 
> As always, the biggest thanks to my amazing Beta, LaBelladoneX
> 
> *I own nothing in the HP universe (Except all the merch I keep buying!)
> 
> Let me know what you think. 
> 
> ~ coyg_81 x

 

Chapter One

Surprise

~•~•~•~•~

 

Hermione woke slowly, her head thumping in pain, as she lay half on a pillow and half off the side of the bed. She could feel the drool from her mouth running down her chin and across her cheek. Opening her left eye slowly — the other squashed into her soft pillow — she tried raising her head a little to take in her surroundings. Her mouth felt like the Sahara and _every_ muscle in her body ached. Groaning in pain, she managed to look around the room she was in, not recognising the large four-poster bed she was currently stretched out on, or the decoration.

 

_Fuck! What the hell happened yesterday? Where am I and where are the girls?_

Panicking slightly, she pulled herself up, resting on her elbows and took stock of the surroundings. This wasn’t the same hotel she, Ginny, and their friends had checked into two days ago. Light from a side lamp next to her showcased the room in a soft, warm glow. Heavy dark gold curtains were pulled across the windows in front of the bed, so thick they blocked out all light, not giving a clue as to the time of day. A seating area and small fireplace were to the right of the windows. And she guessed the two doors to the right of the bed were an en-suite and a walk-in wardrobe. Flopping back down, she stared at the ceiling, trying to get her erratic thoughts under control.

 

 _Okay, Hermione_ , g _o back to Thursday and start from the beginning._

 

_~•~•~•~•~_

 

She, Ginny, Pansy, Katie, and Angelina had arrived in Muggle Amsterdam on Thursday evening for Ginny’s hen weekend, and had partied hard. They’d drank, they’d danced, they’d placed euros into strippers’ thongs, they’d laughed their heads off smoking Amsterdam’s finest greenery in small cafés — taking in all the sights and delights the infamous Red Light District had to offer.

 

Hermione was sure she must have lost half her liver function over the last two days. She’d never drank so much before, but after the last few shitty months she’d had, she’d been more than willing to let her hair down this weekend. And it seemed she had. The last thing she remembered was Ginny daring the four of them — in their drunken, stoned stupor — to enter the largest sex emporium in The Netherlands and find the tackiest, most outrageous sex toy they could. Later on, she would have to guess which girl bought which toy. If she got it wrong, she’d have to buy that girl a drink.

 

Upon entering the massive three-storey building, the four ran off in different directions with only an hour before they had to return to Ginny with their chosen toy.

 

Hermione had walked into the self-love aisle, blushing furiously at the different dildos and vibrators on display. Every size, colour, shape, and texture was available here although she couldn’t imagine how anyone would experience pleasure with some of these ‘toys’. They looked more like torture devices than anything else.

 

Not sure Ginny would want a vibrator, Hermione had stepped around the corner, bumping into someone. Looking up, she’d come face to face with the man she thought she’d never see again.

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

 _Oh, fuck!_ Her heart rate sped up. Suddenly she was wide awake sitting up quickly, terrified to look across the bed, scared shitless of what she’d find.

 

She’d bumped into the last person she’d expected to see — Draco ‘Slytherin Prat’ Malfoy. She couldn’t remember why she’d left with him, or anything else from that point on. Rubbing her knuckles into her eyes, Hermione took some deep steadying breaths, trying to get her frenzied thoughts under control, willing her brain to focus and remember.

 

Turning her head to the left, she let out a little squeak of surprise at the blond bastard lying there facing her, his bed head locks going in all directions and falling across his bright grey eyes, a playful smirk spreading across his face as he watched her.

 

“ _No!_ ” Hermione exclaimed. “Fuck! No, no, no, no, no,” she repeated, throwing back the covers and jumping from the bed before realising she had no clothes on. She screamed in shock at her nakedness and quickly dived back under the covers, pulling them up under her arms and turning furiously to the wanker next to her.

 

“Malfoy! _What the fuck?_ ”


	2. What Happened?

Chapter Two

What Happened?

~•~•~•~•~

 

“Well, that was certainly a good way to wake up, Granger… seeing you naked. One I’m looking forward to seeing every morning,” he answered, smirking at the bemused witch next to him. 

 

“Explain!” Hermione growled, choosing to ignore the last part of his statement for now. 

 

“Explain what?” Malfoy asked innocently, staring at her with a butter-wouldn’t-melt look on his poncy face. 

 

“Why are we in bed together? Why am I naked? Are  _ you _ naked? Why did I leave the shop with you? Where’s Ginny and Pansy and Angelina and Katie?” She rushed out, demanding answers. 

 

“Woah, slow down there, Granger. My head’s hurting and I don’t need you going off like a screaming banshee.” 

 

“Urgh… you’re so infuriating. Explain how we both ended up here… together. Did we… did we have… you know…”

 

“Sex, Granger?”

 

“Yes,” she whispered, her face flaming in embarrassment.

 

“Was it  _ that  _ memorable that you can’t even remember fucking me?”

 

“Tell me we didn’t?”

 

“If you wish for me to lie then, no, we  _ didn’t _ have sex. You  _ didn’t  _ scream my name half the night and  _ beg _ me to fuck you harder,” he grinned wickedly at her. “And to be honest, Granger, I’m a little insulted you don’t remember. Girls don’t usually forget a night with me.”

 

“Oh. My. God. You arrogant bastard. I can’t believe this. Where the hell are my clothes, Malfoy? I’ve got to get out of here before I punch you…  _ again!” _

 

“Merlin, Granger, will you calm down?”

 

“NO! No, I will not fucking  _ calm down.  _ I’ve no idea where I am, no clue as to how I ended up here with you, why I’m naked, or…  _ Fuck! _ How the hell did we end up having sex?”

 

“Well, when two people fancy each other, what happens is, you remove each other’s clothes and then—”

 

“SHUT UP, YOU PRAT!” she screamed at him. “I know how sex works, idiot. What I want to know is how  _ we —  _ as in, you and I — ended up shagging? Are we in some mad alternate universe I don’t know about?”

 

“No, we’re in my hotel suite, in Muggle Amsterdam and — trust me, Granger — you didn’t need any encouragement last night. You  _ willingly _ let me touch you, let me  _ lick _ you, let me  _ fuck _ you,” he teased, reaching under the quilt to fondle one of her naked breasts.

 

“NO!” she yelled in shock, jumping from the bed at his touch, not caring that she was still naked. What did it matter now? He’d already — very obviously — seen her bare form. Her eyes darted about the room, taking in the trail of clothes strewn about the floor and furniture. Spotting her jeans and knickers, she bent to pick them up, hearing Malfoy groan from behind her.

 

“Granger, please don’t bend over like that, or I shall shove my dick into you…  _ again.” _

 

Pulling the items up her legs, she turned to glare at the prat who was stretched out in the bed with his hands behind his head, the quilt gathered around his hips giving her a  _ very  _ nice view of his toned chest. Holy fuck, he was hot; there was no denying it but, until she could figure out what had happened, there was no way she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

 

Looking around for her bra, she spotted the black lace material hanging off the corner of the wardrobe door.  _ Jesus, fuck… how had that ended up there?  _ As she was fastening it around herself, a knock at the door made her jump in surprise.

 

“Malfoy? You in there?”

 

“Who’s that?” She hissed at the reclining blond who was watching her dress.

 

“Yeah, I’m here, Zabini.”

 

“Blaise? Blaise Zabini? What’s he doing here?”

 

Ignoring her, he shouted back through the door, asking his friend what he wanted.

 

“Just wanted to know if you’d finished fucking that delectable Gryffindor yet?”

 

Draco winked at Hermione, noticing the angry look crossing her features. “Be thankful he’s only knocking on the door, Granger. If I’d let you have your way last night—” he paused for effect “—then the bastard would’ve been waking up in this bed with us.”


	3. So-called Friends

Chapter Three

So-called Friends

~•~•~•~•~

 

“What the _actual_ fuck are you on about?” Hermione growled at him, her headache worsening with every passing second of this conversation. Spotting her top lying over her shoes as they peeked out from under the bed, she finished dressing quickly, grabbing her wand and turning to face him.

 

“Woah, Granger, don’t shoot,” he mocked, holding his hands up in surrender at the wand levelled straight at his chest.

 

“Explain, Ferret… NOW!”

 

“I think you need to go and find your friends, calm down, gain some perspective and then come back tonight so I can tell you _exactly_ what happened.”

 

“You think I’m coming back here? Or that I actually _want_ to see you again? I don’t fucking think so, Malfoy.” With that, she stalked towards the door and threw it wide open, facing another smirking Slytherin prat. Barging past Blaise, she stomped off down the corridor.

 

“Good morning to you as well, Princess,” Blaise called after her retreating back, stepping into Draco’s suite and missing the finger Hermione stuck up over her shoulder at him.   

 

“So,” Blaise began, picking up his friend’s shirt from the armchair, flinging it over to the blond before taking a seat. “What did you say to infuriate her so much?”

 

“Me? I didn’t say anything and — in fact — I should be the angry one. Stuck up little bitch doesn’t even remember fucking me,” he fumed, getting up from the bed to pull his boxers up his legs and over his firm arse.

 

“Oh, my, your ego must have taken a hit hearing _that_ ,” the Italian wizard laughed heartily.

 

“Sod off, Zabini, it’s not bloody funny.” Draco fumed as he went in search of his clothing around the room.

 

“It’s a little funny, Malfoy. Bet she wouldn’t have forgotten a night with me,” he joked.

 

Draco shot him a furious look as he stomped over to where his trousers were thrown haphazardly across the sofa.

 

“Well, you may have found out last night when she wanted to invite you to join us, but I managed to talk her out of that one.”

 

“What? Bastard! What did you do that for?” Blaise exclaimed in surprise.

 

“Because she’s mine, Zabini. You can’t have her.”

 

“But does she know that, Malfoy? Because — from where I’m sitting — she doesn’t even remember shagging you.”

 

“Don’t worry about that, Blaise. As soon as she remembers what really happened last night, she’ll know she’s mine,” he confirmed, grinning widely and wishing he could be there to see the look on her face when she did. “She’ll be back tonight, I’m certain.”

 

“I wouldn’t count your Hippogriffs on that, Malfoy.”

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

Hermione spotted the name of the hotel — as she made her way down to the ground floor in the lift — on a poster advertising the hotel restaurant’s opening times. _Of course_ , she thought snidely. _He would check into one of the poshest and priciest hotels in the city._ The Ambassade was one of the finest establishments in the whole of The Netherlands — not just Amsterdam. She also knew where it was located and had a good twenty minute walk back to the charming little hotel she and her friends were staying in. She fumed silently to herself — never having had to do the walk of shame before — and lowered her head as she stepped outside into the morning sunlight, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone, and thinking of the questions she had for her _so-called friends_. Weren’t they worried about her? About where she had been all night? She reached into the pocket of her jacket, looking for her mobile. Surely there would be a bunch of missed calls and texts from them. Not finding the device in any of her pockets, she silently swore, realising she must have left it back in Malfoy’s suite.

 

Seeing her hotel up ahead, Hermione quickened her pace, wanting to get off the crowded streets. She sighed loudly, entering the hotel and crossing the lobby. Figuring the girls would be having breakfast, she opened the door to the restaurant, spotting Ginny, Pansy, Angelina and Katie sipping orange juices and coffees, all four of them caught in raucous laughter, which gained disapproving glances from the other patrons.

 

“Ladies,” Hermione spat through gritted teeth, feeling fiery anger rise like a wave through her. It seemed they didn’t care where she had been and were actually shocked to see her standing in front of them.

 

“Hermione!” Pansy declared in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

 

“What am I doing here? Are you for real right now, Parkinson? I’ve been out all night and you don’t even seem to care,” Hermione half-shouted at her black-haired friend.

 

“Keep it down, Hermione,” Ginny scolded her quietly. “Everyone’s looking.”

 

“Everyone’s… _what?_ What did you just say, Ginevra? Do you think I give a stuff what everyone else thinks right now? Do you not give one shit about where I’ve been?” Hermione was close to losing it with her friends.

 

Rolling her eyes at Hermione’s dramatics, Pansy pulled the chair out from next to her and told the irate Gryffindor to take a seat.

 

“It’s not that we weren’t worried about you, Granger,” Pansy replied, turning to face her friend. “We just didn’t think you’d be finished shagging Malfoy this early.”


	4. Admission

Chapter Four

Admission

~•~•~•~•~

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hermione exclaimed in astonishment. “You bitches knew I was with Malfoy? Why did you let me go off with him?”

 

“You really think we’d have let you just go off with a stranger? Of course we knew where you were,” Pansy answered while Katie put her head down — being the new girl in this group, she didn’t want to cause ructions.

 

“You want to take this one, Pans?” Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes at Hermione and shaking her head.

 

“Come with me, Hermione. We’re going for a walk,” Pansy ordered the fuming witch, grabbing the top of her arm and pulling her up from the chair. Pansy marched them out of the hotel onto the narrow street and took a left, walking them down past the crowds and round the corner towards a fairly quiet park. She checked her phone, reading a text from Draco, not saying a word to Hermione, and letting the witch cool down a little. She lead them over to a wooden bench under a sprawling Willow tree, overlooking a small lake.

 

Hermione flopped onto the seat, rubbing her hands across her face before sighing loudly.

 

“What’s really the problem here, Hermione? Why are you so angry?”

 

Having calmed down a little — the fresh air helping — Hermione took a deep breath and faced her friend.

 

“I woke up in Malfoy’s bed, Pans. Bloody Malfoy… of all people.”

 

“And what’s the problem with that? You’ve been pining after him for years. You finally got what you wanted.”

 

“I… what… I don’t… what?” Hermione stuttered stupidly, shocked by what Pansy had implied. “I don’t love _Malfoy_. Where did you get that idea?”

 

“I didn’t say love, Hermione. But now I know how you really feel about him,”

 

“Urgh… you are such a devious snake, Parkinson,” Hermione sighed loudly, mentally kicking herself for opening her mouth. No point in denying it now.

 

“I didn’t say anything, Herms. That was all you. So tell me, why are you so angry about last night?”

 

“Well, first of all, I don’t remember any of it. I only recall bumping into him in the shop. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in bed next to him — naked.”

 

“Oh, sweet Merlin,” Pansy fell forward in laughter, her head almost hitting her knees. “That’s it, isn’t it? You spent the night getting shagged rotten by the guy you’ve fantasised about for years and you can’t remember any of it?” The amused witch straightened back up, wiping the tears from her eyes.

 

“Partly,” Hermione grumbled, thinking that exact thing on the walk back to her hotel earlier.

 

It had all started back in sixth year; Harry had been obsessed with Draco. His belief that Malfoy was a Death Eater hadn’t left Hermione with much option but to listen to her best friend go on and on about him. Consequently, she had started observing the Slytherin, noticing a very different boy that year. She didn’t know when her feelings had begun to change, but the incident at his house when they’d been captured had certainly been a major catalyst in the shifting of her feelings.

 

She had shaken her head just a fraction at him while prone on the floor, being tortured by his aunt. With Bellatrix’s attention on Hermione, Draco had taken a step toward her, his wand raising toward the mad woman’s back, his eyes locked on Hermione's. That’s when she’d shaken her head — _no —_ and he’d immediately lowered his wand, stepping back to his frantic mother's side. She would never forget the desolate look on his face, or the one of pride as she and her friends had escaped moments later.

 

She had given evidence at his trial, along with Harry, before he’d disappeared. No one she knew had seen or heard from him for the next three years — until she had bumped into him last night.

 

Hermione had even sent a letter to his mother, to enquire as to his whereabouts. She’d been shocked to receive a reply from the Malfoy matriarch, explaining that Draco had needed to get out of Britain for a while and had gone travelling with Blaise.

 

She had tried her best to forget about him, even going out on a few dates here and there over the years, but the blond had never been far from her thoughts.

 

“Stop laughing, Pansy. It isn’t funny. How would you feel if you’d woken up in bed with the man you think about more than anything and can’t even remember what happened… knowing it was probably a once in a lifetime opportunity?”

 

“You know what you need?” Pansy asked the sullen witch. “You need a shower, a sober-up potion, some food and a few hours sleep, then I’ll bet it’ll come back to you. Don’t forget you were already quite wasted when you bumped into Draco, and, knowing him, he would have convinced you to drink even more and Merlin knows what else he might’ve found in this city.”

 

“You’re probably right. We fly home tomorrow lunchtime, so I’ll get a few hours rest and meet you all later for dinner somewhere?”

 

“Well—” Pansy began.

 

“Well, what?”

 

“Draco texted me. He found your phone and would like to return it to you. He’s… eh... requested a few minutes of your time to explain about last night,” Pansy told her quickly, flinching, and awaiting the temperamental witch’s reaction.

 

Hermione thought about it for a few minutes. It would be a pain in the arse to get a new phone and have to set it all up, but she also didn’t want to see Malfoy — or did she? Did she want to see him again, hoping it would jog her memories? She was highly frustrated that she couldn’t remember last night but she certainly felt the after effects — pounding headache, dry mouth, sore all over — even down there! She knew there had definitely been a night filled with frantic sex, feeling lethargic and tired, the memory loss not helping her mood. Maybe she did want to see Malfoy again and let him explain _exactly_ what had happened.

 

“Tell him I’ll meet him in the lobby of his hotel at seven. He’s only got to hand over my phone, so I can still meet you all for dinner.” By meeting with him in public she’d have less chance of embarrassing herself. “Can we go now? I really could use a shower.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Pansy conceded, standing and reaching for her phone. They walked back towards the hotel, the cunning Slytherin firing off a quick message to her friend.

 

_Draco, she said she’ll meet you in your lobby at 7pm. I suggest you tell the concierge to send her to your room… fake an illness or some shit! She’s in a foul mood and I wouldn’t put it past her to hex you! Don’t forget you’re in a Muggle hotel. Px_

 

_Pans, you’re right. I’ll make sure she comes to my room. Lucky me ;-) D x_

 

_Be good to her, Malfoy. You’ve waited a long time for this. Don’t scare her off now! ~ P_

 

_Don’t expect her back anytime soon! D_


	5. Need

Chapter Five

Need

~•~•~•~•~

 

Hermione did exactly what Pansy suggested; she took a long hot shower, trying to soothe her aching muscles, drank a sober-up potion — her head feeling much clearer — but still no memories from the previous night. Then she ordered room service and settled down in the king size bed she’d been sharing with Ginny for the last few nights — the girls sharing a large room with three king size beds in it. The others had gone out gift shopping for family and friends — the hedonistic part of their weekend over — and left her to sleep.

 

When she woke, showered again and dressed, they were back and getting ready for dinner.

 

“How are you feeling, Hermione?” Katie asked quietly.

 

“Better, thanks, Katie. Still can’t remember anything so I’m hoping _ferret boy_ has some answers for me,” she snidely remarked.

 

Ginny snorted into the glass of wine she was sipping from. “Hope you didn’t call him that last night. Pansy said he hates it, _or_ being reminded of what Moody — _or ‘Crouch Jnr’ rather —_ did to him.”

 

“How the hell would I know?” Hermione shot back angrily. “I don’t bloody well remember any of it.”

 

“Someone got out the wrong side of the bed, didn’t they?”

 

“Shut up, Gin,” Hermione growled, not in the mood for the redhead’s teasing.

 

“Well, you look nice, Hermione,” Angelina commented, noticing the green summer dress and strappy gold flats the curly-haired witch had on.

 

“Thank you, Angie. Right, well, I suppose I’d better go get my phone back. Text me where dinner is and I’ll be back shortly,” Hermione told the group nervously. Her palms were starting to get clammy from the thought of seeing Malfoy again.

 

Picking up her bag, and making her way over to the door, she caught Pansy and Ginny sniggering behind their hands together. “What?” She demanded.

 

“Nothing!” Replied Ginny, jumping at being caught whispering with Pansy. “Go… have fun, Herms… we’ll… er… see you sometime soon.”

 

Hermione didn’t like the devious looks on the sly witches’ faces — what were they hiding? Having enough to think about for now, Hermione let it go and left the room.

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

She decided to walk the few streets back to Malfoy’s hotel, needing the fresh air to clear her mind.

 

Amsterdam really was a beautiful city. If the partygoers who visited here actually managed to make it out of the seedy square mile and look around, they’d find a city full of history, culture and architecture.

 

Having been here for Ginny’s hen weekend, Hermione was under strict instructions to let her hair down, i.e. no history lessons for her friends or trips to museums or libraries. She would just have to come back one day on her own and search those things out.

 

She strolled along taking in the house boats along the many canals that crisscrossed the streets, the intricately made bridges traversing the waterways, and people going about their day. The Ambassade hotel was located on a narrow, quiet street, overlooking a small park filled with people enjoying the early evening, walking dogs, jogging the perimeter of the lake or just sitting with friends and chatting.

 

Hermione smiled, soaking up the relaxed, laid-back atmosphere that seemed to permeate the city’s air everywhere she went. The Dutch were so much more liberal than the British — they certainly weren’t as guarded or stuck-up — and Hermione enjoyed the pace of life here. Feeling herself relax a little, she didn’t start getting worked up again until she saw Malfoy’s hotel up ahead.

 

Taking a few deep, calming breaths, and wiping her sweaty hands down the front of her dress, she stepped into the beautifully decorated lobby, looking around for that unmistakable head of white-blond hair.

 

Not seeing him anywhere, she made her way over to reception.

 

“Excuse me,” she said, gaining the receptionist’s attention.

 

“Yes, Madam, may I help you?” Came the heavily accented reply from the young girl behind the desk.

 

“Could you ring up to Mr Malfoy's suite and tell him Miss Granger is here to see him, please?”

 

“Ah, Miss Granger, yes, a message has been left for you. Mr Malfoy says he is quite unwell this evening and you are to go straight up to his suite as he won’t be coming down.”

 

“ _That bastard!”_ She whispered furiously.

 

Throwing the innocent receptionist a look of pure hatred, Hermione ground out her thanks and made her way over to the lifts.

 

As the lift made its ascent — she being the only passenger — her anger spiked with every floor it passed. “What the fuck does he think he’s playing at? Making me come back to his suite… the _bastard_ … the ferret-faced _bastard._ I’m going to fucking kill him! If he thinks… well… if he thinks he’s getting a repeat of… well, he bloody well won’t be!” She muttered bitterly to herself.

 

The lift came to a stop at his floor and she marched down the corridor with angry steps. Stopping outside his suite, she tried to gain her equilibrium by taking deep calming breaths — again — and smoothing down the material of her dress before knocking on the wood.

 

Hearing footsteps crossing the floor behind, she took one last deep breath before it swung open to reveal the smirking blond prat, standing there in black, beautifully fitted trousers, and a dark blue shirt, open to show off the hard planes of pale muscle across his chest and stomach. His blond hair was a sexy, tousled mess, his grey eyes alive with lust and humour.

 

Hermione had no idea what happened but, as soon as she laid eyes on him, she wanted him. Need flooded her body, her breath hitching wildly and her hands twitching to grab him. She could feel wetness pool in her knickers as her heart sped up frantically, her core clenching in delightful anticipation.

 

“Hermione,” he drawled her name in that posh, aristocratic husky tone that was her undoing.

 

She launched herself at him, jumping into his arms, her legs wrapping around his trim hips, knocking him back a few feet from the force of her attack. Smashing her lips down on him, his arms circled her waist holding her to him as he brutally returned the kiss.


	6. Give it to Me

Chapter Six

Give it to Me

~•~•~•~•~

 

Draco walked them both forward until Hermione's back hit the now closed door she had just come through, their wet lips moving against one another, tongues sliding together in each other’s mouths.

 

Her fingers were tangled in the fine pale hair at the nape of his neck while his hands slid under her dress, kneading the firm globes of her arse, his hard length pressing deliciously against her throbbing centre.

 

“Fuck, Hermione, you are so hot. I can’t wait to be inside you… _again_. Need to feel your tight cunt around my cock,” the blond growled against the side of her neck as he pressed his lips to the pulse point along the column of her throat, biting and licking as he moved down across her collarbone.

 

“Malfoy,” she groaned back, arching herself into him.

 

“Draco,” he replied.

 

“What?”

 

“My name, _Hermione,_ is Draco, not Malfoy. Say it!” He commanded.

 

“Dra-Draco,” she cried out, as one of his hands slid around her thigh, fingers pressing against the front of her soaked knickers. Moving her hands to his cheeks, she lifted his head, her lips millimetres from his. “Fuck me, Draco,” she breathed.

 

Groaning loudly, Draco’s mouth met hers again before sliding his fingers under the waistband of her lace pants, rubbing them along her wet folds, circling her hard little clit.

 

“Ung… oh… oh, Draco,” she mewled into his ear, her hot breath making him shiver.

 

She bucked against him, making Draco drop her legs back to the floor, but still keeping her pinned to the door as he inserted a finger into her sodden core. Pumping fast, he curled his finger against her front wall, causing Hermione to jerk against his hand.

 

“Give it to me, Mal… Draco.”

 

“I’ll give it all to you, witch,” he growled, his thumb circling her clit, pressing firmly against her hard little nub, watching her shatter in his arms.

 

“Oh… oh… fuuuuuck,” she screamed as an orgasm ripped through her, making her flop against him while she rode it out on his fingers.

 

Draco pulled his fingers from her, wiping them across her lips until she sucked them into her mouth — tasting herself — and licking them like she would his cock.

 

“Fuck,” he exclaimed.

 

Hermione turned them so Draco’s back was now to the door and slid down his body until she was kneeling before him, her small hands making quick work of the button and zip at the front of his trousers. She lowered them until his cock sprang forward into her waiting grip, fisting his length a couple of times before engulfing the head into her mouth, her tongue licking against his slit, tasting the pre-come that had already formed there.

 

Draco threw his head back against the door, his knees shaking as she sucked the full length of him into her hot, pliant mouth. His hands fisted into her wild mane of curls, pulling her harder against him.

 

“Merlin, Granger, your mouth feels so good on me,” he told her through clenched teeth.

 

She released him with a pop, looking up, “Hermione. My name is Hermione,” she winked before taking him past her lips again, using one hand to fist the base of his cock while her mouth worked the length of him, sliding her lips up and down, her tongue circling his head.

 

“Merlin, fuck, stop, _Hermione_ ,” he panted, reaching down and lifting her back to her feet. “I don’t want to come in your mouth. I want to come in that tight, hot cunt of yours… _again!”_

 

Her eyes widened at his words, as he lifted her up, walking them the few steps to the bed before throwing her down on it. She lay panting as she watched him strip out of his clothes. The anticipation was killing her. This time she was clean and sober, determined to remember every thrust as he fucked her into the headboard. There was literally _nothing_ in the world she wanted more than his cock inside her right now.

 

He slowly crawled up her body, his fiery gaze on hers, bunching up the fabric of her dress, making her arch up so he could remove the material over her riotous curls, chucking it across the room.

 

“No bra, love? I like it,” Draco drawled, lowering his head, capturing one of her taut nipples between his teeth and biting gently.

 

“Oh, Draco,” she keened under him, her hips grinding against his.

 

Draco kissed down her chest and stomach, dipping his tongue into her navel, hearing a little squeak of surprise from the witch. His tongue trailed down further to the edge of the lace underwear she had on. Slipping his thumbs into the elastic, he slowly peeled them down her legs, flicking them off her foot. Looking down into the dark brown, lust-filled gaze of the witch spread across his bed, his own eyes reflected the desire in hers.

 

“What are you going to do to me, Draco?” She asked breathlessly.

 

“I’m going to eat your pussy, Hermione,” he smirked, lowering his head towards her dripping centre. Before he made it to his destination, Hermione called him, his head rising back up, looking at her quizzically.

 

“Just fuck me… please,” she almost whined. “Give it to me, Draco.”

 

He growled as he covered her body once again, the head of his cock nudging against her opening. Hermione thrust her hips slightly, letting him slide in a little deeper.

 

“Say it again, Hermione.”

 

“Say what? I’ll say anything,” she cried desperately, needing him to move.

 

“Say what you want me to do to you.”

 

She grabbed his face in both of her hands bringing his lips a breath away, while he held her in the same way.

 

“Fuck me, Draco. Fuck me hard… now!”

 

He groaned and sunk fully into her tight channel. Pulling all the way out he thrust back in — hard — making her gasp.

 

“YES!” She screamed. “Oh God, yes, Draco, fuck me.”

 

Moving until he was resting on his forearms, and looking into her eyes, Draco did as she asked.

 

She bucked against him, trying to drag him in deeper, her nails scratching along the expanse of his back as he pistoned into her.

 

Hermione could feel that exquisite pressure building in her belly, taking her higher until she cried out, wave after wave of tingling pleasure washing through her.

 

“Merlin, Hermione, you feel so good.” he growled as he snapped his hips and shot his seed deep inside. Draco collapsed on top of her, his breathing erratic, his heart beating wildly.

 

He rolled off a few seconds later, both of them flat on their backs and staring at the ceiling.

 

“Draco?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“What just fucking happened?”


	7. Truth

Chapter Seven

Truth

~•~•~•~•~

 

“Holy fuck, how is that even possible?” Draco whispered so quietly under his breath he didn’t think Hermione had heard.

 

“How is what possible? And are you going to answer my question?”

 

He turned his head to face her, amazement sharp across his features.

 

“How is it possible that after last night — and just now — I still want you. I need to bury my cock so deep into you and never leave. I’m aching for you, Hermione.”

 

 _Holy fuck indeed!_ She visibly gulped at his words.

 

“I feel the same, but I don’t understand why. I still don’t remember anything,” she told him, turning on her side and shuffling closer as he copied her, both of them pressed up against each other.

 

“Do you see this?” He asked, pointing at a red mark high on his left cheekbone.

 

“Yes. How did you do that?”

 

“You did it yesterday when I ran into you in the shop.”

 

“Pardon me? _I_ did that?” She was shocked, reaching over to run her thumb over the injured area.

 

“I don’t know what you’d been up to with the girls all day but you were quite wasted. After I bumped into you and you realised it was me, you hit me and screamed — _where the hell have you been?”_

 

“God, Draco, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how many times I’ve said it today but… well… I don’t remember.” A mixture of guilt, frustration, and need were warring inside her.

 

Suddenly a very primal urge washed over her, to push him back and ride him until morning. Hermione was struggling to control it, losing badly. She didn’t understand why this feeling had taken hold as soon as she’d seen him, and now she felt guilty for hitting him, for not being able to recall doing so, and feeling frustrated about it all. She sighed, loudly.

 

“We… we had fun last night, Hermione. Once you’d calmed down, I convinced you to come and have a drink with me. There was _a lot_ of alcohol involved, some weed, and a potion I’d procured.”

 

_Finally! The truth!_

 

“And… explain this potion to me.”

 

“Well,” he sighed, running a hand through his blond tresses. “Blaise told me about an underground wizarding black market here in Amsterdam he’d heard about and we thought we’d check it out. Two nights ago—”

 

“Hold on a second,” Hermione interrupted. “What are you even doing here in the first place?”

 

“Pansy told us you were all coming here. Blaise and I were in Brussels at the time and thought we’d come and surprise her.”

 

So Pansy had been in touch with Draco this whole time? Hermione was going to have words with that sneaky she-snake!

 

“And it ended up being me that was surprised?” Something was off. Hermione felt he was lying about why he was here in Amsterdam; it was too much of a coincidence that he just happened to be in _that_ shop at _that_ time. She’d let it go for now and come back to it later.

 

“To say the least, yeah.”

 

“Okay, so… potion. Tell me about it.”

 

“Right, well, as I said, Blaise and I headed to this black market. They had some pretty weird and wonderful stuff for sale,” he started to explain, pulling the covers over them. “There was an old hag watching one of the stalls and she beckoned me over. It was lined with all sorts of different glass bottles — potions and herbs I’d never heard of. The one she gave me looked fascinating, the bottle contained a thick purple liquid that shimmered with silver flecks. Turning the bottle in my hand felt mesmerising; it felt like I was enthralled with its contents. The hag noticed and gave me the ugliest, toothless grin I’ve ever seen. She explained what it did and I bought it there and then.”

 

“And what does it do, Draco? Stop stalling and tell me.”

 

“She told me it contained a variation of Amortentia, Veritaserum, and some very old magic her ancestors knew about. It’s also supposed to lower your inhibitions more than alcohol does.”

 

 _“What the fuck?”_ Hermione screeched, shooting up into a sitting position, taking the sheet with her and wrapping it under her arms to keep herself covered.

 

Draco followed suit and sat up as well, running a hand soothingly across her back. “I… I think the hag lied to me about the potions true potential though. Some of the side effects have been a little crazy.”

 

“You’re telling me! Is that why I have such an insatiable need for you right now? It’s the Amortentia part of the potion, isn’t it? And there must be a reason you remember and I don’t. Do you still have the bottle?”

 

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head forlornly.

 

“ _Damn it!_ Maybe we could go back to the market in the morning.”

 

He nodded.

 

“I think you need to start at the beginning, seeing as you remember and I don’t,” she said a little petulantly, peeved that he had his memories and she didn’t. Why could that be? They’d taken the same potion, so why did Draco remember and she didn’t?

 

“Would you like some food, Hermione? Maybe we could sit in the lounge area while we talk.”

 

“Shit! Food! I’m supposed to be meeting the girls for dinner. Where’s my phone, Malfoy?”

 

“Back to Malfoy again, already?”

 

“Sorry, sorry, habit, you know? This is all very strange to me. I need to let the girls know I won’t be coming, so where’s my phone, please, Draco?”

 

He grinned, before reaching over to his bedside table and retrieving her mobile. There was no point telling her he’d already spoken to Pansy. She would want to let her friends know herself.

 

“Thanks,” she said, taking the device and slipping from the bed with the sheet wrapped around her.

 

“There’s some really nice dressing gowns in the bathroom if you’d prefer to wear one of those, or I could grab you one of my shirts if you’d like, rather than having to put your dress back on.”

 

“Erm… yeah, thanks. I think I’ll have a shower, if that’s alright?”

 

“Of course, help yourself. I’ll order some food while you sort yourself out,” he told her politely.

 

The atmosphere seemed strained and formal between them all of a sudden. Hermione turned and made her way over to the en-suite. Leaning against the vanity unit, she took a deep, calming breath before opening her phone and pulling up the group chat she had with her friends.

 

_Herms: Don’t think I’m going to make it to dinner. Be back in the morning._

 

_Pans: Like we didn’t know that!_

 

_Gin: Doubt you’ll even be back by then. Don’t worry about anything. We’ll call you in the morning. Have fun!_

 

_Herms: You two are terrible, you know that? ;-)_

 

_Angie: Go get that ferret, Girl… LOL_

 

_Herms: Bye, have fun! Xx_

 

Rolling her eyes at her friends’ messages, she put the phone down and turned on the multi-headed shower in its large glass enclosure, giving it a minute to heat up before she dropped the sheet and stepped into the hot, powerful stream of water.

 

Facing the tiled wall, she let the warm water wash over her sore and aching muscles, suddenly feeling weary and bone tired. Yawning loudly and stretching languidly, she didn’t hear Draco enter the bathroom or see him step into the shower behind her.

 

She let out a squeak of surprise as his strong arms wrapped around her waist, his chin resting on the top of her shoulder and whispering into the shell of her ear. “Dinner’s ordered, it’ll be here in about thirty minutes. How about we get you nice and dirty, before I wash you clean?”

 


	8. Feelings

Chapter Eight

Feelings

~•~•~•~•~

 

“God, Draco,” she muttered, feeling his lips move down the column of her throat, his hands gripping her hips firmly, pulling her tight against him, grinding his stiff length against her arse.

 

“I-I want you, Draco… need you to… to—”

 

“Need me to what, _Hermione?”_ he purred into her ear.

 

“Fuck me, Draco. I need you to fuck me.”

 

“Your wish… my command.” he spun her in his arms, lifting her up until her legs wrapped around his waist and slammed her into the wall behind, adjusting her slightly so she was centred just above his throbbing cock. “Slide that delicious wet cunt down on me, baby. I need to feel you.”

 

Hermione moaned loudly, placing her hands on his shoulders and lowering herself slowly down, feeling his width stretch her open exquisitely.

 

“Yesss,” he hissed, squeezing her arse cheeks as he held her up against the wall, plunging into her wet heat, her channel tight around his dick as he fucked her… again.

 

Hermione ground down on him with every thrust, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone until she couldn’t take the pressure anymore and shattered in his arms, her pussy pulsing around Draco’s cock as he sped up, every thrust harder than the last, pounding her into the wall.

 

“Yes, Draco. Harder.”

 

“Merlin, you’re a dirty fucking witch,” he growled through clenched teeth, as he looked down at his glistening prick sliding through her folds. Pushing into her one more time he couldn’t help the ferocity of his orgasm, his chest pressed against hers as he felt his cock pump his seed deep inside her.

 

“Gods, Hermione. I don’t ever want to stop fucking you,” he told her, his forehead pressed to hers as his heartbeat slowed back to normal.

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

Once Draco had cleaned her up as promised, he passed her one of his plain black, v-neck t-shirts to wear along with a pair of his boxers he’d shrunk down to what he thought was about the right size, and guided her over to the seating area in his suite. Dinner had been served while she’d dried her hair and now her stomach growled at the smells coming from the plates. They ate chicken, salad, potatoes, and crusty warm bread in companionable silence, Draco offering a glass of cold white wine across the table.

 

“Didn’t this get me into enough trouble last night?” she asked, accepting the glass from him and taking a sip of the crisp, fruity drink.

 

“Well, we really need to talk so drink it slowly,” he winked at her.

 

When she’d eaten enough, she asked if it was okay to lie down on his bed, tiredness overcoming her. He joined her there, both of them facing each other.

 

“So?”

 

“So?” He repeated.

 

“What now?”

 

“Now, I’m going to tell you everything I know about this potion.”

 

“Okay. I’m warning you now though that I may drop off to sleep. I’m so tired.”

 

Draco smiled, brushing a curl from her forehead and running his hand down her arm, settling it at her waist.

 

“Apparently,” he began quietly, “the Amortentia part of it is quite specific to the buyer of the potion. After adding a lock of my hair, it mixes with my DNA and shows me what my heart truly desires. The night before last I dreamed of someone—”

 

“Who?” Hermione implored, her naturally inquisitive mind trying to work out who it was.

 

Draco raised both eyebrows at her, as if to say, _really?_

 

“It was you, Hermione. I dreamed of you, but I really didn’t need the potion to tell me that. The hag explained that, for some of the ingredients to work at their full potential, I had to find the person I’d seen in my dream and try and get them to take it as well. If the witch — or wizard, I suppose — if,” he grinned, shrugging his shoulders at that. “Well, if the _witch_ felt anything for me, then I’d know, hence the Veritaserum part of it.”

 

“Shit! What did I say to you? Did you take advantage and use this to find things out about me, knowing I wouldn’t remember? And what do you mean, you didn’t need a potion to tell you who you’d see? What do you mean by that? And why do you remember and I don’t?” Hermione was starting to feel irate. What he’d done felt like a violation and she couldn’t fully understand his reasoning for doing so. He might have dreamed of her, but that didn’t mean he _actually_ liked her, did it? She’d been in love with him for years but she was pretty certain he hadn’t felt the same about her.

 

“Calm down, Hermione, please. I didn’t know about the memory loss part, honestly. That’s another side effect I have no idea about,” he almost begged. This conversation wasn’t going the way he thought it would.

 

“Sorry,” she snapped. “Really, I’m sorry Draco. I’m so tired all of a sudden. My brain isn’t working properly, there’s a potion running through my system I know nothing about, I kind of want to jump you right now, and I have all these feelings building up inside me, and I don’t quite know what to do about it all.”

 

“Come here,” he laughed. The hand he had at her waist tightened as he pulled her closer and moved them until she had her head in the crook of his shoulder. “Try to take a nap. I’m feeling pretty tired myself, plus I’ll need the energy to fuck you again tonight.”

 

“Gods, Draco, don’t say things like that,” Hermione half complained, throwing her leg over his and pushing closer to him.

 

He laughed as she rubbed herself against his thigh.

 

“Stop it, witch, get some rest.”

 

Hermione exhaled contentedly as she settled down, wrapped around him, listening to his steady heartbeat lulling her into a relaxing sleep, Draco’s fingers carding through her hair.

 

He waited until her breathing had slowed into the steady, even breaths of deep sleep before murmuring quietly to her.

 

“The reason I didn’t need a potion to tell me who I should be with is because I was already in love with you...  or so I thought.”


	9. Dreaming

Chapter Nine

Dreaming

~•~•~•~•~

 

“I only took it to confirm my feelings, and, as usual, I was right.” Draco laughed quietly, as he continued whispering to her. “I’ve been in love with you for years, and now I _know_ you feel the same. You’re mine, Hermione, and I’m not letting you go anywhere without me ever again.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and settled down with her to sleep.

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

Hermione was dreaming; she knew she was dreaming. It was like being in a Pensieve as she watched herself run off from the other girls in the loud, bright, sex shop, techno music pumping throughout. She wasn’t a prude, but some of these ‘toys’ were making her blush. She and the girls had hit it hard that afternoon — drinking, smoking Amsterdam’s finest — generally having a good time.

 

Hermione felt extremely chilled out. Her normally full and fast mind had quieted, and now she was in a relaxed, happy place, wandering about and blushing furiously as she walked up the aisles.

 

Gigging quietly to herself, and shaking her head, she turned at the end of the aisle and walked straight into a hard chest. Arms shot out to catch her before she fell onto her arse.

 

Grabbing onto the solid forearms, Hermione righted herself, looking up to thank the stranger but finding herself staring into the amused grey eyes of Draco Malfoy instead.

 

Her heart dropped in shock; she couldn’t believe it was him holding her. Gasping, she pulled back from his grip, watching his eyes darken a little.

 

“Granger.”

 

“Mal-Malfoy.”

 

Anger like she’d never felt before tore through her. Irrational? Yes, but she _loved_ this man. She’d loved him for so long and he’d disappeared, not seeing him again for three bloody years! She’d always felt she’d missed her chance to try and get to know the real him. And now here he was, standing as bold as brass in front of her, clearly enjoying the distress her mind was putting her through.

 

“Where the hell have you been?” She shouted, before slapping him round the face. Shocked at what she had done and shaking violently, she took a few steps back.

 

Draco’s hand shot out to grab her arm, the other holding his face where she’d hit him, rubbing his cheek gingerly. Spinning her around he pinned her back to his front, his arm circling her waist and holding tightly. He grinned as his breath ghosted across her throat, watching goosebumps rise as she shivered.

 

“What the fuck, Granger?” He growled into her ear, pulling her back around the corner of the aisle and  pinning her to the shelving, her head turned to the side.

 

“Missed me, have you?” He asked in a breathy tone, his hold tightening. “Merlin, fuck… I—” he paused, his nose was just under her ear, his lips placed gently on her neck. “I need you, Hermione.” His voice vibrated against her skin.

 

Hermione’s heart was hammering in her rib cage as she shook, her knickers dampening as he held her there. He’d never been this close before, his scent sending her wild. She wanted nothing more than for him to touch her all over. His tongue was tracing the shell of her ear and she couldn’t help herself from doing it — she _needed_ to do it. She pushed back against the very obvious bulge at the front of his trousers and rolled her arse over him.

 

He froze and growled — _actually growled —_ into the side of her neck, his teeth nipping her skin, laving across it with his tongue.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not unless you want me to fuck you right here in this aisle.”

 

Those words brought reality crashing back and she quickly pushed against him again — firmer this time — until he stepped back and dropped his arm.

 

“Granger,” he breathed, his chest heaving and his eyes alight with fire.

 

“What-what are you doing?” She asked apprehensively. Her whole body was being drawn to him yet, she was wondering why she’d had such a visceral reaction to his presence. Yes, okay, she loved him, had done for years. She dreamt about him, thought about him, fantasized about him touching her _like that_. But him? She couldn’t understand why he’d just done that.

 

“I… I… erm…” he stuttered nervously.

 

Well, this was a first — a stuttering, nervous, Malfoy!

 

“I don’t really know,” he sighed embarrassingly. “Seeing you… I just… just… shit, I don’t know really.” _Fuck,_ he was flustered and had to convince her to stay with with him for a while. “Would you like to go get a drink?” He asked quickly with such a pleading, distressed look on his pale features. God, he’d gotten more handsome over the years. The last time she’d seen him he’d looked pale and sickly, his fate in the hands of the Wizengamot. He looked healthier now — back to his normal weight — his hair a little grown out and none of that bloody gel he loved anywhere in sight; it looked floppy and wild.

 

“I… Yes,” she replied shyly. There was no way she was giving up this once in a lifetime opportunity. She wanted to know why he’d been so aroused when he’d seen her. Did he fancy her? Was it for a laugh? Her inquisitive mind just _had_ to know, so she agreed to go for a drink with him.

 

She watched him relax slightly at her acquiescence and nod to himself as he exhaled quietly.

 

“There’s a café across the road, if you’d like—”

 

“Okay.”

 

He guided her back through the aisles — his hand on her lower back — towards the front of the store where Hermione could see Ginny waiting. Draco led her over to the redhead.

 

“Hermione,” she grinned evilly. “And Malfoy…” she smiled at him over her friend’s shoulder.

 

“I’m taking Granger for a drink.” The blond wizard told Ginny, without room for a rebuttal.

 

“Mmm hmm,” Ginny replied knowingly.

 

Draco held the door open for Hermione and, as she was about to walk through, Ginny slapped her arse whispering, “Go get him, Tiger.”

 


	10. Remembering

Chapter Ten

Remembering

~•~•~•~•~

 

Draco took Hermione’s hand, entwining their fingers. When she didn’t protest, he squeezed gently, feeling her reciprocate, and smiled to himself. Leading her over a narrow bridge, across the canal, he brought her into a quaint little café. 

 

They found an empty table in the far corner. Having asked what she would like, Draco went to the counter to order. 

 

Hermione watched him — his tall, lithe frame, that blond hair almost at his collar, and his arse —  _ oh, God _ — his arse was filling those trousers out very nicely. Hermione wanted to squirm, she could still feel those lips on her neck and his  _ very  _ hard member pushed against her. Swallowing, she run her hands through her wild hair. 

 

Still staring, Draco turned with a tray in his hands and caught her eye, giving her a cheeky wink as he walked back toward their table. After he’d placed a coffee and a blueberry muffin in front of her, he sat down opposite, removing items from his pocket and rolling a joint. Lighting it up, he inhaled deeply, the smoke escaping from his mouth and nose. Hermione bit her bottom lip nervously as she watched him, her foot tapping against the floor as he devoured her with his dark grey eyes. 

 

“Soooo,” he drawled in that tone of voice Hermione loved, offering her the joint. She accepted it, taking a deep puff of the relaxing weed. 

 

“So, what?” She asked, picking up her coffee with her free hand, raising an eyebrow over the rim of her cup. 

 

“How have you been?”

 

“How have I…  _ what _ ?” She asked, astounded at how blasé he sounded. 

 

“Well, I would say you must have missed me if you were angry enough to slap me the way you did.” He grinned at her mischievously, no doubt getting off on making her uncomfortable, she was sure. 

 

“I… I’m sorry about that, Malfoy,” she replied sheepishly, looking down into her cup. 

 

“I had to get away, you know? I couldn’t stay in England after everything that happened.”

 

“Where did you go?”

 

“Blaise’s villa in Italy. It’s beautiful, tucked away in the Tuscan countryside. He’s been such a good friend to me. I was a mess when the trial finished and spent the better part of that first year drinking myself into a stupor.”

 

“I can imagine. So you’ve been drinking and shagging your way around Europe with Blaise then?” 

 

“I don’t shag Blaise. Why? Are you bothered?” He taunted.

 

“Pfft, you wish, Malfoy.”

 

“Yeah, I do,” he whispered into his cup, hoping she hadn’t heard. 

 

She did. 

 

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a manwhore, Granger. I certainly haven’t been  _ shagging  _ my way through Europe. I left that to Blaise. After I started to feel better, we left Italy and spent the next eighteen months travelling around. Then Pansy called to say you were all going to be in Amsterdam, so we came here for a catch up.”

 

“And you just happened to be in that shop at that time? Bit of a coincidence, wasn’t it?”

 

“Well, yeah… er… Pansy said to meet her there, and then you came around the corner and smacked into me.”

 

“So what was that reaction then?” She asked nervously, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

 

He exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair. 

 

“Okay, Granger, I’m going to be straight with you and tell you the truth.”

 

The truth? From Malfoy? This should be interesting.

 

“Go on,” she encouraged.

 

He went on to explain all about the potion and what it had done, watching Hermione curiously as her eyes lit up, her quick mind obviously wanting to explore this further. 

 

“So what do you think would happen if we both had some now?” she asked inquisitively.

 

“I’m not really sure. Your reaction to me in the shop showed me that maybe you wouldn’t be opposed to trying it.”

 

“I’m kind of curious, to be honest. Do you have it on you?” Yep. She was definitely stoned — agreeing to this with  _ him, _ and not even caring. 

 

Draco retrieved the bottle from the inside of his jacket and passed it over to her. Hermione looked at the contents curiously. 

 

“It’s purple with silver flecks. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s mesmerising actually,” she told him, shaking the bottle slightly. 

 

“That’s what I thought. Reminds me of one of those Muggle lava lamp things.”

 

“Indeed,” she mumbled, still concentrating on the strange purple liquid. “And this potion made you dream of me? Why?” She couldn’t believe he’d admitted that.

 

“As I said, the purchaser of the potion has to add their hair to it and sleep. It will show you your ideal partner in a dream. I… well… I liked you anyway, Granger, and had a feeling it would show me you.” He blushed slightly at this admission.

 

“You liked me anyway? You  _ can’t _ be serious?”

 

“I am. But look, if you’re interested in discussing this further, could we go somewhere a little more private? And, anyway, if you did want to try this, I think we’d be safer inside than out here in a public café or on the street. I have a feeling your reaction will be quite visceral.”

 

Hermione thought about it for a few moments. Did she want to go off somewhere with Draco Malfoy and try some strange potion with him? Well, if it made them continue what had started in the sex shop then, yeah, she’d be interested. But as much as she loved this man, she didn’t really trust him… yet. She’d need the name of his hotel to let Ginny know where she’d be. Even stoned, she was still sensible. 

 

“Your hotel?” she asked playfully, looking up through hooded eyes.

 

“Fuck, yes,” he answered, standing up and holding his hand out. She looked at it for a second before exhaling, rising from her seat, and taking his proffered hand to let him lead her from the shop.


	11. Oh My God!

Chapter Eleven

Oh My God!

~•~•~•~•~

 

Draco and Hermione strolled down the narrow streets of Amsterdam hand in hand, taking in the early evening revellers and sights and sounds of the vibrant city. Hermione was nervous — being here with the object of her affections — not knowing what was going to happen next. Both Ginny and Pansy had practically begged her to let go this weekend and, so far, she really had. Hermione wasn’t one for drinking a great deal of alcohol and had _never_ smoked before.

 

Over the course of the weekend, however, she’d done both, also trying space cakes, magic mushrooms and poppers. She and her friends had had a blast here in the European city of sin, and now Malfoy had turned up. Having her inhibitions already lowered from the amount of alcohol she’d consumed throughout the day, her decision to go with Draco had been an easy one. She really was quite curious about the potion he’d showed her and how it worked.

 

They turned the corner onto Herengracht, which was lined with small cafés and beautiful Japanese blossom trees in full bloom, colouring the street with their white and pink petals; it really was a very pretty street. Draco led them through the lobby of the Ambassade hotel and over towards the bank of lifts. As they waited, he pulled the vial from his pocket and flipped the lid on the ornate bottle.

 

“Sure about this?” he questioned the brunette.

 

“Yes,” she answered immediately.

 

Draco watched through narrow eyes as he passed her the bottle and she drank half the contents. He then took it back and drained the rest.

 

“That tasted better than I thought,” she mused aloud, waiting for something — _anything —_ to happen.   

 

The lift pinged letting them know it had arrived, the doors sliding open. With his hand at the bottom of her back, he guided her into the small car, turning his back to press the correct button for his floor. He noticed Hermione leaning against one of the walls, her head back, eyes closed and taking deep steadying breaths.

 

“Okay there, Granger?”

 

“What’s happening?” She panted, feeling her heart race. She could smell him —  his scent taking over all the space inside the small lift. It was overpowering her senses and making her hyperaware of his presence.

 

“Open your eyes, Granger,” Draco demanded.

 

“I’m scared.”

 

“Of what?”

 

“Of what will happen if I do.”

 

“Do it,” he growled.

 

Hermione’s eyes opened slowly, staring at the ceiling. She was still too nervous to look at him. Her body and mind _wanted_ him… _badly._ She knew it was the effect of the potion, and _fuck_ , he’d been right. She wanted Draco. Although she knew deep down the potion wasn’t telling her that. She already _knew._

 

“Look. At. Me.” The blond commanded her forcefully. He needed to know if the potion was having the same effect on her as it was on him. He was hard as stone in his boxers, his heart racing furiously. He _needed_ to fuck her. _Now!_

 

Hermione slowly lowered her head and gasped loudly when her eyes met the grey fire ablaze in his, making her face heat up intensely under his penetrating stare.

 

“Oh. My. God,” she breathed out slowly.

 

Draco took two steps forward, placing a finger under her chin to lift her face to him.

 

“You sure you can handle me, Granger?” He teased.

 

“What makes you think I couldn’t handle you?” Hermione asked. She didn’t know what she was asking for, from a man who couldn’t remember what it was like to be innocent.

 

Gripping her hands in his and raising them above her head, his body pressing her against the lift wall, he lowered his face, his lips a breath away.

 

“I’m a bastard in bed, Granger,” he said quietly. “I’m selfish and as mean as the devil. I have to have all the control. And I’m not… _gentle.”_

 

Hermione forgot to how to breathe before his lips crashed down on hers.

 

 _FUCK!_ Malfoy was kissing her and it felt so fucking good, feeling his tongue slide between her lips and into her hot, willing mouth. As she returned the kiss, the lift signalled the arrival at his floor.

 

They didn’t break the kiss before they both heard Blaise Zabini speak.

 

“Fucking hell, Malfoy. Do you _always_ get what you want?”

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

A/N: Thanks to Jinksy54 for some of the scene in the lift! I had LaBelladoneX sitting in front of me when that popped up on Prompt Monday. We both squealed, so thanks for letting me use it hun x


	12. Waking Up

Chapter Twelve

Waking Up

~•~•~•~•~

 

“Leave,” Draco growled into the side of Hermione’s neck.

 

“What?” She whispered in shock reply.

 

“Not you. Zabini.”

 

“Touchy much, Malfoy?” Blaise sniggered, moving around the canoodling couple and into the lift as Draco grabbed Hermione by the waist, lifting her up and walking off down the corridor to his suite, not looking back at his friend.

 

Their tongues twisted together, their mouths melding as Hermione’s hands flew into the back of his hair, pulling at the blond strands, making him moan into her mouth.

 

Draco spelled the door open, turning and kicking it closed just as quickly, never breaking the ferocious kiss with the witch in his arms.

 

Hermione’s hands moved from his neck, over his shoulders to the buttons of his dress shirt, ripping at them when her shaking fingers couldn’t get the buttons undone. She was wild and feral in her movements, needing him naked and inside her… _now_.

 

Draco was no different, wrenching his mouth from her and lowering her legs back to the floor so he could remove the black vest top she had on, rolling it up her body and over her wild mane of curls. Dropping the top, his hands grabbed hold of her arse, digging his fingers into the firm globes and dragging her closer to him.

 

Hermione’s hands made quick work of his belt, watching his trousers fall to the floor before he stepped out of them, removing his shoes and socks in the process before picking her up by the waist and throwing her onto his bed. He leaned over, his fingers undoing the button and zip of her tight jeans, peeling them — along with her panties — off her legs, throwing the items behind him.

 

The feral look in his eyes as Hermione’s thighs dropped open made her breath hitch.

 

Draco removed his shirt and leaned over her to wrestle her bra away from her luscious body. Taking a nipple between his teeth and biting gently, Hermione’s hands gripped the back of his head, holding him tightly against her.

 

“Oh, God, Malfoy,” she panted, as his tongue laved her pebbled nipple, his fingers toying with the other before he lifted his head and crashed his lips down on hers, his tongue licking into her mouth.

 

“Can’t wait,” he mumbled against her swollen lips, his hand sliding around her thigh and delving into her slick folds. He rubbed his fingers around her pulsing clit, thrusting two inside as she bucked against him.

 

“So tight and wet. Can’t wait,” he muttered again breathlessly, removing his fingers and lining the swollen crest of his cock up with her entrance.

 

Holding himself up on his forearms, looking down into her lust-filled gaze, he plunged his hard, throbbing cock into her tight cunt.

 

“Ah, fuck,” he cried out, seating himself deeply inside her as Hermione threw her head back against the pillows, her pussy stretched wide and full from Malfoy's length. “Hades’ fiery hell, Granger. You feel too good.” Draco began thrusting in and out of her tight, warm centre, every piston of his hips sending her higher and higher.

 

He felt so good, fucking her with everything he had. He entwined their fingers, bringing their hands above her head as his body stretched out over hers, pumping into her small frame violently.

 

He wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t _gentle._ Bringing his lips back to hers, he thrust his tongue into her mouth and against her own.

 

Hermione moaned against his lips, meeting his hips with every thrust. He was consuming her; she couldn’t think or feel anything other than the pleasure Malfoy was wringing from her body. Her slick folds rubbed against him as he continued plundering her tight core.

 

Pulling out of her quickly and flipping her over, Draco used his hands on her hips to drag her arse up into the air before he shoved his dick back inside her shaking body. His balls slapped her arse as he fucked her with such ferocity, the headboard was banging on the wall.

 

Hermione let out an animalistic scream as one of his hands slid around her thigh and pinched her throbbing clit. He was winding her tighter and tighter until she couldn’t take it anymore, coming violently on his cock, her tight walls clamping down on him as she rode out her orgasm.

 

Draco groaned loudly, grasping her hips and forcing himself inside of her even harder, feeling his balls tighten before shooting his creamy liquid into her womb and collapsing over her back.

 

“Jesus, fuck,” he panted into her ear, his heart beating furiously in his chest as his dick pulsed and throbbed in her. Not giving her a chance to find her equilibrium, he slid his throbbing cock from her and flipped her again, moving down her body, plunging his tongue into her dripping centre, licking up his own come, along with her juices, like a man starved.

 

“Oh, God. Oh… fucking… God,” Hermione cried out, her sensitive pussy thrumming on his tongue.

 

“Come, Granger,” the blond moaned into her wet folds, inserting two fingers into her and running his thumb across the puckered opening to her arse.

 

It was sensation overload for Hermione as she started shaking frenziedly around his face. As her centre clenched with her impending orgasm, Draco pushed his thumb past the tight ring of muscle and fucked her arse as she fell apart around him.

 

The feeling was so intense that she shattered into the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced.

 

She shrieked loudly, her hips rising off the bed and grinding against Draco’s plunging fingers and tongue.

 

Breathing wildly and gasping for air, Hermione’s body fell back into the softness of the mattress, her head dizzy and heart pounding. She slowly came down from her high, her body spasming randomly with aftershocks.

 

Draco crawled up her body slowly, licking and kissing his way, delving his tongue into her mouth and making her taste both of them. He then pulled his mouth back and fell to her side, his chest rising and falling fast with his deep breaths.

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

“DRACO!” Hermione shouted, bolting upright in bed as she quickly came back to consciousness.

 

“What? What’s going on?” Draco called out in surprise, sitting up quickly to face his distraught witch.

 

Hermione was staring at him, her face flaming hot and red.

 

“I remember.”


	13. Confessions

Chapter Thirteen

Confessions

~•~•~•~•~ 

 

“Wait, what?” Draco asked groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes. 

 

“I… I remember,” Hermione repeated coyly, her fingers toying nervously with the edge of the blanket. 

 

Yawning loudly and shaking his head, trying to clear his mind from the thought that he’d just had the best night's sleep in over five years — wrapped around the woman he loved — Draco looked intently at her. 

 

“Okay, tell me. Remember what?”

 

“Everything.”

 

“From last night?”

 

“Yes, of course from last night. And well… erm...” Hermione looked away from his intense gaze, her body trembling slightly, her bottom lip between her teeth. 

 

“Hey,” Draco consoled, reaching out to pull her to his side. 

 

Hermione moved over to him, his arm wrapping around her back as she positioned herself with her head resting on his shoulder, leaning into him and placing her hand on his thigh. 

 

“Between our brief respites from fucking each other’s brains out last night, I do remember some conversation. And one of those things—” he spoke softly, placing a finger under her chin and moving her head up to face him, “—one of those things was no secrets, remember?”

 

Hermione nodded in agreement, caught in his hypnotic grey gaze. He had the most beautiful eyes, clear grey with bright silver flecks when he was in a good mood, dark and stormy when he was angry or turned on — which he obviously was now. 

 

She smiled before leaning up, giving him a quick kiss on his soft lips. 

 

Draco wasn’t having that. He tightened his hold around her back, pulling her towards him, slanting his lips over hers, his tongue licking into her mouth, both of them moaning. 

 

As the kiss became more urgent and frenzied, Hermione’s brain kicked back into gear and she wrenched her mouth from the blond’s. 

 

“We should… erm… talk,” she stuttered apprehensively.

 

Draco’s fingers moved down her arms lightly, causing her to shiver with desire. Every touch was sending her wild, but she was sure the potion should be out of their systems by now.

 

“How long do the effects of the potion last again?” 

 

“Around twenty-four hours, why?”

 

“And we took it at what time?”

 

“Around sevenish, I think. Why, Hermione?” He asked again, puzzled at her sudden train of thought. 

 

“Well, I came here at seven tonight so the effects of the potion should have been wearing off at least, so—” she paused dramatically, raising her eyebrows, “—that explains why I jumped you the second I saw you and, it also means I’m no longer under the effects of it now.”

 

“Okaaay,” he replied, still confused. And then it hit him.  _ How did she feel about him now?  _ He was sure that what she’d said to him last night had been true. The hag had told him the potion contained Veritaserum, so Hermione would have been compelled to tell the truth. But what if the hag had lied? “Oh,” he whispered, self-doubt beginning to kick in that she  _ didn’t _ feel the same way he did. Watching her eyes move from his worried frown to his lips and down to his neck, he gulped deeply, swallowing down the bile at the back of his throat. She _ had _ to feel the same way he did. This was it for Draco; he couldn’t see anyone but Hermione in his future. 

 

He had accomplished what he’d set out to do when he left England and now was the time to move his plan forward, but it wouldn’t mean a thing if she wasn’t by his side. She was going to get the surprise of her life at the end of this summer and he couldn’t wait. He’d loved this woman for a long time, hiding it behind nasty asides and bullying over the years, always trying to grab her attention — one way or another. 

 

“So.”

 

“So,” Draco parroted her like an idiot, his cheeks pinking slightly. “How do you feel about everything that’s happened? About… me?”

 

Hermione smiled at him — this vulnerable, emotionally fragile, Draco Malfoy sat before her, and she knew. She knew it in the deepest recesses of her heart, right down in her bones — she loved this man. She loved his strength, his loyalty, his often hidden compassion, and his inability to express his emotions. She also loved his slightly dark, dominant, possessive, snarky streak that seemed to run through his core. That darkness was a part of him and it always would be but, if he brought it out of her like he did last night, then Hermione could more than handle it. She’d told him that. 

 

They had been facing one another, fingertips slowly caressing skin, tantalising, each hyperaware of the other. He’d asked her the question for the first time — how do you feel about me? — and Hermione replied she loved him. Draco repeated the sentiment immediately, proving his point by making the sweetest, slowest love to her, showing her in his actions what words could not express.

 

Hermione couldn’t tell him that now though; she wasn’t entirely positive the Veritaserum had worked on him and, until she was sure he felt the same way, she wouldn’t be saying those three words. 

 

“I don’t regret it.” She hated the sound of it as soon as it had left her mouth. A cheap phrase, implying she’d had fun and was ready to bid him goodbye as she bolted from his suite. Watching his shoulders slump slightly in defeat, Hermione silently kicked herself. 

 

“I… I didn’t mean it like that.” The fear and panic was evident in her voice. “What I meant... was...” Hermione reached out to take his hands in hers, his head lifting back to look at her. 

 

Hope blossomed in her chest at the optimism in his eyes. 

 

“What I meant was,” she began again, “I don’t regret any of it and if you’d like… you know… I could stay the night.” She shrugged her shoulders, trying to act casually about the whole situation and avoiding the L-word conversation at the same time, but her stomach rose, a wave of nausea passing through her. Oh, God, what if he said no? 

 

“The night?” He grinned brightly back at her, shuffling closer. “How about tomorrow as well? And the next day, and the one after that?”

 

“I have to leave tomorrow, Draco.”

 

“What for? What do you _ actually _ have to go back for? I know you’re teaching at Hogwarts, but school doesn’t start for another four weeks, love.”

 

Hermione thought about it for only a moment. “What did you have in mind?” She winked, pushing him down on the bed and straddling his naked hips. 

 

Draco moaned, feeling her wet pussy move against his hard cock. He thrust his hips up, eliciting a whine from the naughty witch on top of him. 

 

“More of this for a start,” he told her in that husky tone, that dripped sex. “Seriously though,” Draco’s hands grasped her hips tightly, stilling her movements — for now. “I want you to spend the next few weeks with me.”


	14. Making Plans

Chapter Fourteen 

Making Plans

~•~•~•~•~

 

“Really?” Hermione asked suspiciously, not sure he knew what he was asking. 

 

“Yes,” Draco hissed, as she rubbed her pussy along his shaft. 

 

“Yes?” She teased. 

 

“Yes. Yes, as in  _ yes _ , I want you to spend some time with me, and  _ yes _ , your warm, wet cunt feels so fucking good sliding against me. Lift up sweetheart,” he commanded, moving his hands to her thighs, his large palms massaging her soft skin as she raised herself up, gripping his hard cock and slowly sinking down on him.

 

“Gods, Granger, you feel so good,” Draco groaned, his head thrown back into the pillows as her warm velvety walls encased his length. 

 

“So… do… you,” she panted, grinding against him before moving her knees and thighs to fuck him slowly, feeling how deep he was every time she brought herself back down. 

 

Hermione leaned forward, her tongue licking up his neck, tugging his earlobe between her teeth. 

 

“Say it,” she demanded, whispering urgently into his ear. Her desire was ratcheting up with every move of her hips, Draco’s cock hitting that spot deep within, making her see stars. 

 

“Say what?” He rasped, his skin tingling everywhere she touched. 

 

“What you said last night when we were in this position.”

 

_ Ah!  _ Now he understood. She needed the confirmation and he was only too happy to oblige. 

 

“I want you, Hermione. Need you. Need you badly,” he moaned into the side of her neck. 

 

Draco moved his hands to her hips and sat up, bringing their chests together as he thrust up into her. 

 

“Oh… Draco… fuck.” Moving her hands to place on his shoulders, Hermione crushed her lips to his as they met each thrust the other was giving. 

 

Hermione screamed as an orgasm tore through her. “God, fuck, yes, oh, Draco… yes… harder.”

 

Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock of everything he had as he came hard. 

 

“Hermione… yes... oh, my God,” he panted, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder, licking at the sheen of sweat on her sweet tasting skin. 

 

Trying to get their erratic breathing under control, neither spoke for a minute, wrapped tightly around each other. Draco’s dick pulsated with aftershocks, making Hermione clench each time. Untangling herself from her lover, she made her way to the bathroom. 

 

“Granger?”

 

“Yes, Draco.” She looked coquettishly over her shoulder.

 

“You never answered me.”

 

“About?”

 

“Spending the next few weeks with me.”

 

“Oh. Right. Ummm—”

 

“Ummm,” he repeated, his normal composure definitely not in place. What did she have to think about?

 

“Can we discuss this in a minute?” She asked, turning back towards the bathroom. 

 

“Sure, Granger. Whatever,” he snarled, throwing himself back against the pillows in frustration. 

 

Hermione sighed, locking the bathroom door behind her. Spotting her phone still sitting on the vanity unit, she quickly picked it up and fired off a message to Ginny and Pansy. 

 

_ H: HELP! S.O.S He wants me to spend the next few weeks with him!  _

 

_ G: We know _

 

_ P: And the problem is? _

 

_ H: What do you mean… ‘you know’? _

 

_ P: Merlin, Ginny, you have a big mouth!! Yes, Herms, we know he does. He asked my advice on whether he should ask you or not? _

 

_ H: Oh! Well help me! What do I do? _

 

_ G: Do you really need us to answer that? Jesus, Hermione. We all know how you feel about him. Take a chance and go with him, have some sodding fun for once in your life. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure Crooks is cared for.  _

 

_ P: What she said! ^^ Do it, Hermione. You won’t regret it. Before we leave tomorrow we’ll come by his hotel with your things.  _

 

_ G: Now stop hiding in the bathroom (I know you are so don’t lie) and go shag that ferret’s brains out some more. See you in the morning! _

 

_ H: I love you both! x  _

 

Hermione smiled as she went about her business. After a few minutes, she unlocked the door and stepped back into the bedroom, smiling at the drama queen on the bed. 

 

Draco was lying with an arm across his face, obscuring those gorgeous eyes of his. 

 

“Draco,” she called softly. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Stop sulking and look at me.”

 

He moved his arm a fraction so just his right eye was peeking out at her. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes at his theatrics, something else she loved about him. He was so spoiled and used to getting his own way, she found it funny and quite ridiculous when he had a tantrum — adorable really — if not a fraction annoying. 

 

“What? You got permission from Dating Command Central and now you’re ready to say yes?”

 

“Could you be acting any more like a baby?”

 

“Are you going to answer the question?”

 

She stepped closer to the bed, looking at him watch her walk, licking his lips while perusing her naked form moving closer toward him. 

 

“They’re not Dating Command Central as you put it. They’re my friends and yes, I asked for their advice. I don’t see what the problem is.”

 

“The problem,” Draco replied in that low, deeply sexual tone, “Is that you can’t make the decision for yourself without their input. It’s quite simple really.” He moved like a snake striking its prey as he quickly sat up and reached for her, pulling her down on the bed and under him, pinning her head with his forearms and staring intensely into her warm brown eyes. “ _ You _ either want to spend some time with me or  _ you _ don’t. Please don’t let Pans and the she-weasel get inside your head. What do  _ you _ want, Hermione?”

 

“I… I want that too, Draco. I’d love to spend some time with you, and try to get to know you.” She smiled up at him, her hands reaching for either side of his cheeks, sliding her thumb across his bottom lip. “If Pansy and Ginny had tried to dissuade me, I would have said yes anyway. I… I want to…”

 

“Want to what, Hermione?” He was finding it difficult not to brush his lips against hers. Draco could never tire of kissing those lips, so full and soft, tasting slightly of vanilla — a scent and taste that drove him wild for her. 

 

“I want to see what this is, this… thing between us. We’re obviously attracted to each other.”

 

“I’d say that’s a given, especially after last night.” 

 

_ Shit!  _ Now she’d done it — opened her big fat mouth in true Hermione Granger style.  _ Now _ he’d want to talk about what they’d declared to each other… the dreaded ‘L’ word. 

 

Hermione did the only thing she could think of and leaned up, pressing her lips on his and silencing him. 

 

Draco groaned as he felt her hot tongue slide into his mouth, that subtle vanilla taste igniting a fire deep within his stomach. 

 

He pushed her further into the mattress, rolling his hips against hers, the firmness of his erection pressed along the inside of her thigh. 

 

Hermione broke the kiss first, panting for breath and looking up into his dark, glazed eyes, her fingers gliding through his hair. 

 

“The girls are going to drop my things off here in the morning, so let’s go back to sleep and discuss where we’re going to go first when we wake.”

 

“Sounds perfect,” he replied, moving them both until he was spooned around her, one leg thrown over hers, one arm folded under his head and the other around her trim waist, pulling her naked body flush against his chest. 

 

“There are so many places I want to take you, Hermione.” Draco whispered, his warm breath ghosting down the side of her throat. 

 

“Really? And where would you like to  _ take _ me?” She was teasing him, pushing her bottom against the firm length pressed against her arse cheek.

 

“Stop it,” Draco growled. “We won’t get any sleep if you continue to do that, little tease.”

 

“Alright, I’ll be good. So, where are we going then? I haven’t really been anywhere in Europe before except Paris.”

 

“Ah, yes... Paris. The most romantic city in the world apparently. To be honest, I wasn’t so taken with it but if you’d like to go back, we can.”

 

“I’m not bothered really. We’ve both been, and there are plenty of other places to see.”

 

“Well, our first stop is going to be a surprise, so get some sleep,” he ordered, snuggling closer to her warmth.

 

They both sighed as they settled down, Draco grinning behind her, amazed that she was here and had agreed to leave with him in the morning. 

 

They were going to have so much fun together. 

 


	15. Goodbyes

Chapter Fifteen

Goodbyes 

~•~•~•~•~

 

Hermione awoke to find Draco’s head between her legs, lapping at her warm, damp folds, flicking her clit with his tongue, making her nerves buzz, and her pussy clench with arousal as he slid a finger deep inside.

 

“Draco,” she mumbled, still half asleep but grinding on his face. “Oh, my God.”

 

He smiled against her wet, puffy lips, feeling her hands grab the back of his head, pulling at the blond strands and pressing his face harder into her centre as she pushed her hips against him, riding out the pleasure on his tongue. 

 

“Draco,” Hermione panted, flopping bonelessly back against the pillows. “I could get used to being woken like that.”

 

“I bet you could,” he replied huskily, kissing his way up her stomach, between her breasts and along the column of her throat, capturing her lips and thrusting his tongue inside. 

 

Hermione moaned as he invaded her mouth with her own essence

 

“How can I pay you back?” She purred seductively, looking at him from under her long lashes. 

 

Draco didn’t answer verbally, instead leaning up on his knees and flipping her over. Hermione turned her face so she could look over her shoulder to see what he was doing. 

 

He pulled her up by her hips, lining himself up with her glistening centre. “Fuck, Hermione, you’re so wet. I can’t wait to sink into that tight little cunt,” he rasped, plunging into her deeply, hearing her gasp, her walls clenching around him. Pulling back out, he caressed the peachy globes of her arse before slamming back in, setting a punishing rhythm. Gripping her hips tightly, he fucked her up the bed, her arms reaching out in front to stop herself banging into the headboard. 

 

“Ah… God… yes, Draco… harder,” she screamed out. 

 

Hermione felt Draco reach around to gather her wetness on his fingers, then stroke along the seam of her arse as he continued to fuck her relentlessly. He used just his middle finger to tease at the opening. 

 

“Merlin, Draco… wha-what are you doing?” Heat was building where the tip of his finger was playing. 

 

“Shh, Granger,” he snarled in that dominant tone he’d used on their first night; the tone that drove her wild. 

 

Hermione moved back against him, wiggling her hips to let him know it was okay to continue. 

 

Draco slipped the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle, slowly working the digit in and holding still, letting her adjust. 

 

Panting hard and feeling exquisitely full, Hermione moaned loudly, gripping the headboard. “Move, Draco.”

 

He growled as his cock slammed into her, his balls slapping on the back of her thighs as he finger-fucked her arse, the extra tightness around his prick making him dizzy. 

 

“Fuck, Granger, not going to… last. Come, baby. Come with me,” he grunted, feeling his balls tighten and his cock swell further. 

 

“Ung… Draco… going to… come… so hard.” Hermione gasped as her body trembled under the weight of the orgasm that crashed through her. Pure ecstasy radiated through every muscle as she clenched around his throbbing dick, feeling him coat her insides with his creamy seed. 

 

“Oh… oh…” Draco couldn’t manage any more than that before he collapsed over her back, his heart thundering. 

 

Neither moved for a minute until Hermione complained of not being able to breathe. 

 

“Granger,” Draco exhaled unsteadily, rolling over onto his side. 

 

She raised her eyebrows in answer. 

 

“You’re going to be the death of me. Death by orgasm, courtesy of Hermione Granger,” he teased, smiling widely. 

 

“What a way to go,” she giggled, slapping his stomach lightly and standing from the bed. “Now get up. We’ve got to meet the girls and collect my things.”

 

“Still so bossy, Granger. I like.” He wagged his eyebrows and grinned lavaciously. 

 

“Idiot,” she replied, rolling her eyes and stepping into the bathroom. 

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

Once they were both dressed and Draco had packed, he left to visit Blaise’s room, saying he’d meet Hermione at the reception in ten minutes.

 

Her friends were sitting across two sofas, each with a coffee in hand, chatting amicably between themselves. Making her way over, Ginny spotted her first and grinned with that devilish  _ Weasley  _ way she had. 

 

“Well now, don’t you look completely ravaged.” At her words, the other three girls turned to Hermione, also smiling knowingly. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, taking a seat next to Pansy. 

 

“Where is he then?” The Slytherin inquired. “You haven’t shagged him to death, have you?”

 

Hermione couldn’t help the snort that left her throat — covering it with a cough — and thinking that maybe she almost  _ had _ done that to Draco this morning. He was still sprawled across the bed when she’d finished her shower. 

 

“He’ll be here in a minute. He’s just catching up with Blaise.”

 

“Here’s your things,” Ginny said, passing over Hermione’s small beaded bag. 

 

“Thanks. Erm…”

 

“What?” The redhead questioned, knowing her friend had something to get off her chest. 

 

“What will you tell Harry and Ron?” Hermione asked nervously, looking to Katie for her response regarding Ron. 

 

“They already know.” Ginny replied. 

 

“Wha-what?” She stammered, feeling the blood drain from her face. Her two best friends still despised Malfoy. 

 

“We thought it best to tell them so they’d have dealt with the shock by the time we get back,” Katie explained, placing her hand on top of one of Hermione’s shaking ones. 

 

“Well, I suppose,” Hermione sighed, “By the time I get home in a few weeks, you both would have calmed them down.”

 

“Even if they don’t agree, that’s not going to stop you, right?” Pansy asked worriedly. She knew how much Draco had riding on this. 

 

“No. No, it won’t but I’d be happier if I had their support.”

 

“Don’t worry, Herms. It’ll be sorted by the time you get back. Right, Angie?” Ginny asked her sister-in-law meaningfully.

 

“Oh, yes,” Angelina smirked back. “Georgie needs a couple of guinea pigs for the new batch of products he has coming out. A word in his ear and I could arrange for both Harry and Ron to be fully on board by the time you return.”

 

Hermione gulped. “Bloody hell. George definitely knew what he was doing marrying you, Ange. You’re positively scary when you smirk like that.”

 

All five girls broke into raucous laughter, lightening the atmosphere. 

 

“Ladies,” came the smooth drawl of Draco, moving across the lobby towards them in slim, dark denim jeans and a fitted white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His blond hair was a tousled, sexy mess that fell across his forehead. Ginny licked her lips and Hermione reached out to playfully hit her friend on the arm. 

 

“Draco,” Pansy squealed, jumping up to hug him and place a soft kiss on his cheek. Hermione couldn’t help her eyes narrowing at their closeness. 

 

The amused blond winked and smiled over Pansy’s shoulder at his witch, watching her shoulders relax a little as she smiled back. 

 

“What? He’s hot, even I wouldn’t deny it,” Ginny declared, taking Hermione’s mind off the scene in front. 

 

“I know,” Hermione replied dreamily. 

 

“Urgh… Draco Malfoy.” Ginny stated forcefully, standing and facing the Malfoy heir with her hands on her hips, that Weasley scowl firmly in place.

 

“Yes, Weaselette?”

 

“What are your intentions towards my best friend?” The threat in her voice clear. 

 

“Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, Weasley. She’ll be perfectly safe with me. And, if you must know…” he had that look on his face that told Hermione the next thing out of his mouth was sure to be rude. 

 

“I plan to shag her silly in—”

 

“Okay, enough,” Ginny grimaced, covering her ears. 

 

Hermione shook her head at their antics and went to hug Angelina and Katie goodbye, both witches wishing her a good time. 

 

Tugging Ginny towards her, Hermione wrapped her arms around her best friend’s back, thanking her for a wonderful weekend. 

 

“It was one to remember alright,” Ginny laughed into Hermione’s hair. “No doubt it’ll take us all a good few days to recover fully. Although...” she teased, pulling out of Hermione’s embrace to watch her reaction, “Some of us won’t have the time to recover, will they?” She winked. 

 

“Ginny,” Hermione squealed quietly. “You’re so bad.”

 

“I know, I know. Now, off with you. Have fun and try not to let that brain interfere too much, yeah? You know what I’m talking about,” she tacked on quickly, not allowing Hermione to reply. 

 

“You’re the best, Gin. You really are,” Hermione told her, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. 

 

Walking around the sofa, Hermione reached for Draco’s outstretched hand, linking their fingers together. She gave a quick one-armed hug to Pansy and waved at them all before turning and walking away to God knows where with Draco Malfoy. 


	16. Spain

Chapter Sixteen

Spain

~•~•~•~•~

 

Draco guided Hermione out through the revolving doors of the hotel and down the street to a narrow alley where they could Disapparate. Before he took them to their first destination, he placed his hands either side of her face, his thumbs brushing against her bottom lip. 

 

“I saw that look back at the hotel and I wanted to reassure you that _ nothing _ has ever happened between myself and Pansy. She and Blaise are like family to me, and it’s never been like that.”

 

“I know,” she replied, sucking the tip of one of his thumbs, watching his eyes darken. 

 

“You’re insatiable, witch. Although I must admit, I did find the jealousy quite a turn on.”

 

“I don’t share,” she stated simply, shrugging her shoulders. 

 

“Neither do I,” he replied breathlessly, grabbing her chin in one hand, tilting her head up and pressing his mouth down on hers. 

 

While he had her occupied, he Disapparated them. 

 

Hermione fell against him on landing, not prepared for Draco to whisk them away. Righting herself, she shook out her disorientation. 

 

“Where are we?” She inquired, instantly noticing the difference in temperature. Back in Amsterdam it had been in the low to mid-twenties; where they were now was much hotter. 

 

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” he taunted playfully. “And, I need to transfigure your outfit. 

 

“My… what? Why?”

 

“Dress code, Granger.” He removed his wand before she had a chance to argue, changing her green, strappy summer dress into a loose white cotton shirt, midthigh-length grey skirt that flared at the bottom, and a swath of red and gold beads adorning her neck, reaching from her collarbone to just above her breasts. The necklaces were nestled against the expanse of skin visible due to Draco purposefully leaving the first three buttons of her shirt open. 

 

“Draco… I… why am I being reminded of my Hogwarts uniform?” Hermione quizzed, clearly puzzled by his choice of clothes, and still wondering where they were. He left her sandals as they were but changed the colour from gold to black. 

 

“You’ll see,” he winked, taking her hand and leading her from the alley they’d arrived in. 

 

The mid-morning sun was already high in the sky, warming everything below. Hermione took in the bright street they were now standing on, looking around at the shops and road signs for a hint as to what country they were in.

 

“Spain!” She exclaimed gleefully, clapping her hands together. 

 

Draco looked thoroughly amused at her enjoyment. 

 

“Yes, love. Spain.”

 

“Do you know that my mother—”

 

“Is half-Spanish? Yes, I did know.” Draco laughed at the open-mouthed shock on her face. 

 

“H-how?”

 

“You mentioned it once in Muggle Studies.”

 

“But… Draco,” she exclaimed. “That was so long ago. You remembered?”

 

Draco remembered nearly everything she’d said, especially important tidbits about her life. This had been back in fourth year. They’d been talking about history — the Spanish Armada in particular — when Granger mentioned her heritage. Draco remembered thinking at the time that’s where she must get that slight golden glow she always had — her year-round sun-kissed skin always looked so soft. He had to stop himself a few times over the course of their school years reaching out to brush his fingers against Hermione, just to feel her warm skin on his. 

 

“I suppose. It was just one of those things that seemed to stick in my mind,” he answered nonchalantly, not wanting her to know just how much she’d invaded his thoughts over the years. He swallowed nervously, turning them right to walk down the street. 

 

Hermione exhaled happily, her fingers entwined with the wizard next to her as they strolled slowly down the pavement. It was nearing midday on Sunday and the roads were half-filled with cars while people took lazy strolls along the pavement with family, friends, or pets. Mouth-watering aromas emanating from the many cafés made Hermione’s stomach grumble. 

 

“How long is this surprise going to take?” Hermione asked, looking up at him, watching his features darken a little. 

 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” He replied curtly. 

 

“No, of course not, silly. It’s just that… well, I’m hungry. We didn’t leave time for breakfast, remember?” 

 

Draco visibly relaxed at her admission. 

 

“Oh, I remember alright,” he grinned, winking playfully as she nudged him in the ribs. 

 

He stopped in front of a quaint little café, the aroma of coffee and pastries wafting into Hermione’s nose. Passing an empty table, Draco pulled out a chair for her and headed inside to order.

 

They sat quietly, eating warm, buttery almond croissants and drinking strong coffee, watching the world go by, content in each other’s company. Hermione kept stealing surreptitious glances over at him until he happened to catch her, quirking an eyebrow and smiling widely. 

 

“See something you like, Granger,” the blond teased. 

 

“Maybe.” Her foot began sliding up his shin and she watched him swallow thickly. 

 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Come on, witch. Let’s get this surprise over with and then I can take you to our hotel for the night and ravish you.”

 

Now Hermione swallowed hard at the images floating in her mind as she stood to allow Draco to lead her away from the seating area.

 

“Naughty witch,” he laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist and placing a kiss on top of her head as they continued down the street. 

 

Turning a corner, Hermione gasped. “Oh, Draco… this… this is the Plaza de Colón. Oh…” she exclaimed excitedly, “I know where you’re taking me.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. Of course she knew — brainy little witch. So much for it being a surprise. 

 

“Do you recognise the statue?” She asked, looking over at the Plaza. It reminded her of a more ornate Nelson’s Column in London, only the figure at the top of  _ this _ column was Christopher Columbus — or Cristóbal Colón as he was known in Spain. 

 

“It’s Christopher Columbus.”

 

“What… how… how did you know that?”

 

“Hermione, just because I’m a pure-blood wizard doesn’t mean I haven’t read about Muggle history, love.”

 

“Well, you’ve certainly shocked me with that admission.”

 

“I aim to please,” he told her, winking with a cocked eyebrow.

 

“Prat.”

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

They both laughed as Hermione continued to stare at the statue, Draco taking her hand once more and leading her down the street.

 

Turning another corner, he watched her face light up at the building in front of them.

 

She stopped dead in her tracks, awed by the huge structure.

 

“Biblioteca Nacional de Espanã,” Hermione said in perfectly accented Spanish.

 

“You can speak Spanish?” he asked, a little turned on by her accent. 

 

“Yes. My mother taught me.”

 

“I learn something new everyday. Shall we?” Draco motioned towards the steps that would take them to the main entrance of the foreboding building.  

 

Hermione couldn’t contain her glee at his surprise. She and her mother had spoken about how they would take a trip here to Madrid —  her maternal family’s home city — and visit this library when she finished Hogwarts. 

 

Hermione looked up at the awe-inspiring structure in amazement. She wasn’t with her mother but the company was second to none anyway. She couldn’t believe Draco had the foresight to bring her here. The library was huge, with three entrance archways framed by wrought-iron gates, built in a neoclassical design, and eight columns above the archways supporting the facade’s roof.

 

“How are we going to get in, Draco? The library is closed on Sundays.” 

 

“You forget who you’re dealing with, Granger. I’m a Malfoy with millions of Galleons in his vault who can get us into any place we’d like to go —  opening hours be damned.”

 

“Arrogant much,” she laughed in awe at his pompous ways as they climbed the steps, stopping at the middle archway where Draco spoke in fluent Spanish to the security guard. 

 

Hermione’s mouth dropped open listening to the sexy blond speak; his tongue seemed to wrap around the words in that smooth, elegant way of his. She could feel herself staring, slightly spellbound at the words falling from his delectable mouth. 

 

“Estoy en lo cierto al suponer que tenemos dos horas, y estaremos completamente solos?”

 

“Sí, señor Malfoy, tiene dos horas reservadas exclusivamente para usted dentro de la biblioteca.”

 

Hermione caught the conversation — Draco had secured them two hours of exploring time by themselves within the library. 

 

As he continued to speak, Hermione figured out the need for the outfit change. They were going to spend two hours inside — alone — and he’d dressed her in what could only be described as a Muggle version of her Gryffindor uniform.

 

It seemed he was hoping to act out one of his boyhood fantasies of fucking her in the library. Well, she’d see about that.  

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

A/N: Thank you to Abzurdahmxs for help with the Spanish. Much appreciated x  


	17. Biblioteca Nacional de Espanã

Chapter Seventeen

Biblioteca Nacional de Espanã

~•~•~•~•~

 

To be fair to Draco, he didn’t try to touch Hermione up once; he preferred to watch her reactions and listen to her waffle on about this or that Spanish king and all about the history of the library, spouting off random facts about everything she saw. He led them around, pointing out things he thought she would like, just to hear her speak in that passionate tone she had.  

 

The witch was as smart as they came, having a thirst for knowledge Draco had never seen before. He might not have shown it back when they were younger, but he’d always found it quite endearing — being a bit of a studious bookworm himself.

 

With his hand at the small of her back, he steered her away from the main section of the library and down a corridor where doors led off into different rooms. Draco grinned mischievously, spotting the many alcoves that dotted the sides of the long hallway between the doors and passageways.

 

As Hermione’s attention was diverted elsewhere — following a tapestry along the wall — he pulled her into one of the alcoves, pinning her against the brickwork.

 

“What the… Draco… you git. I knew it!”

 

“Knew what?” he drawled lazily, one hand gripping her waist, the other running through her curls, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.

 

“I knew you’d try something! No wonder you dressed me like this! When I realised where you were bringing me, the pieces fell into place.” His hand at her waist tightened, making Hermione shiver in delight. 

 

“Really? And what pieces would those be?” He teased, dropping his hand from her hair to the other side of her waist, pushing his body closer so he had her caged. 

 

Hermione exhaled, stopping the groan at the back of her throat from escaping. She really had no defence when he was this close. Every part of her screamed to kiss him but it was too risky to do so here.

 

“Was it a fantasy of yours to bang me in the library when we were at Hogwarts?”

 

“Maybe,” he grinned in awe. Such a perceptive little thing; nothing got past Hermione Granger. Draco ground his hips against hers and — this time — she did moan. 

 

“Not here, Draco, we’ll get caught.”

 

“Yes, here,” he told her in a low growl, bending his head so his lips just brushed the shell of her ear. “We’re all alone for a while longer, Granger, and I want to make you come… right here… right now.” He gently bit her lobe, sending her heartbeat soaring, the blood in her veins thrumming with need at his words.

 

_ She couldn’t resist. _

 

Reaching for her wand from inside the beaded bag she carried, she quickly cast  _ Repello Muggletum,  _ and  _ Silencio  _ before putting the vinewood back, grabbing his head in both of her hands and kissing him fiercely.  _ So much for showing him, Hermione _ , she scolded herself, not really caring when his lips were massaging hers the way they were. She was beginning to realise she had no willpower around this man. No one had ever made her feel this way before; those dates she’d sporadically been on over the years would never have met the level of need and passion she’d experienced in the last couple of days. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her, and she didn’t want him too either. 

 

Draco dragged one hand down over her skirt until his fingers brushed the soft skin of her leg.

 

Hermione broke the kiss, throwing her head back and panting for air as she felt his warm fingers slide beneath the material, dancing the tips along her inner thigh until they pressed against the front of her damp underwear.

 

“Merlin, Granger, already so wet for me.” Not giving her a chance to answer, Draco slid his fingers under the waistband of the lace, rubbing at her pulsing clit, sliding his middle finger down through her slippery folds to sink into her tight heat. 

 

Hermione circled her hips on his hand, crying out his name. 

 

“You are one naughty little Gryffindor, aren’t you, kitten?” He growled into her neck, hot breath panting against her sensitive skin.

 

Desire — so strong in its intensity — rapidly built within, pulsing out from her core, spreading like wildfire. Hermione was so hot for this man, needing more than his finger right now. 

 

“Fuck me, Draco,” she whispered, pulling his head up so she could look into his burning gaze. 

 

Reaching between them to undo the button on his jeans, and sliding the zip down, she shimmied the denim halfway down his thighs before Draco met her mouth with ferocity, his tongue plunging inside, sweeping against her own and swallowing the moan that wrenched from her. Removing his hand from her dripping pussy, he bunched up the skirt to her waist, grabbing her arse and lifting until she wrapped her legs around his trim hips.

 

“Granger,” he snarled dangerously, “I need to be inside you.” With one hand gripping her arse, the other slid underneath her thigh to move her underwear to the side. Hermione guided his cock to her entrance, feeling him sink into her. He pinned her against the wall with his hips, his cock buried to the hilt inside her warm, throbbing centre. 

 

“Gods, Granger. You don’t know how long I’ve thought about doing this,” he moaned between clenched teeth, pulling out and slamming back in. 

 

“I wanted to fuck you against the stacks back in Hogwarts,” he continued breathlessly, pushing in and out of her fluttering pussy. “All of those times I watched you reaching for a book, I wanted to push you against the shelving and plunge my cock into you. I wanted to hear you panting and screaming my name.”

 

“Jesus, Draco, if I’d known it would have been like this, I would have let you.”

 

“We missed out on so much time together. But don’t worry, my little kitten, we’ll make up for it now,” he told her sincerely, fucking her hard against the wall. 

 

“Ung… Draco… going to come… oh…” Hermione cried out, feeling that exquisite pressure building, every thrust sending her higher until swathes of ecstasy rolled through her, white hot heat pulsing as her throbbing cunt clamped down on him, making him groan into her neck, feeling his own release. 

 

They held onto each other, both breathing deeply. Draco’s cock pulsed inside her, making Hermione squirm in delight. 

 

“Never… had it as good… as this,” the blond panted, unwrapping her legs from around him, lowering her back to the floor so he could tuck his cock back into his jeans. 

 

Hermione reached for her wand again, clutching it in her small fist and casting a Scourgify at them both, smiling proudly as he continued. 

 

“I knew fucking you would blow my mind.” He spun in her direction, grabbing her chin, hearing her little shock of surprise at his forcefulness. His eyes bore into her with such passion and ferocity, Hermione forgot how to breathe. 

 

“You’re mine, Hermione. I never want to fuck anyone else  _ ever _ again. Do you hear me? You. Are. Mine.”

 

All she could do was nod at his words, too overcome to answer. His look was almost feral and — if that wasn’t a declaration of his feelings — she didn’t know what was. Hermione was completely under his spell, sure she could never have sex with anyone but him now. She wanted him — not just physically — she wanted the man behind the cold exterior and everything that came with him. 

 

“I’m yours, Draco… always,” she whispered back, watching his features relax some. 

 

“Good,” he breathed shallowly, pressing his forehead to hers. “Don’t ever leave me, Granger... not now.”

 

Hermione could have wept for him. Who  _ was _ this Draco? Vulnerable and sweet and oh-so fucking hot. 

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she replied quietly, reaching up to stroke one of his cheeks. 

 

He looked down into her clear, brown eyes, seeing the sincerity in her gaze and exhaled quietly. 

 

“Good. That’s… good. Want to get out of here? Our hotel is just around the corner.” He grinned devilishly, wagging his eyebrows at her like a naughty child. 

 

She smiled back, nodding her head, as he led them back to the main entrance and out onto the street, thanking the security guard as they passed. Hands locked together, they laughed and joked as they walked. 


	18. Exploring

Chapter Eighteen

Exploring

~•~•~•~•~

 

Over the next three weeks, Draco showed Hermione all his favourite places in Europe, not staying any longer than a few days in each location. They visited Germany, Norway, Croatia, and Greece, making some fabulous memories together as they strolled around hand in hand. They visited libraries, museums, monuments and churches, taking in landscapes and architecture along the way.  

 

One particular highlight had been the yacht he’d chartered to take them sailing around the Norwegian Fjords. The rolling mountain landscape, with its small, colourful towns nestled between the hills, was jaw-droppingly beautiful. 

 

Hermione had fallen in love with the old walled city of Dubrovnik in Croatia — there was so much rich history to study and admire. She was mesmerized by the Parthenon, having dreamt of visiting it since she was a little girl. Her love of historical facts had her practically running to each History of Magic class at school. Being a Muggle-born witch, Hermione had been fascinated by the vibrant history the wizarding world had to offer — even finding entertainment listening to Professor Binns drone on about the many goblin wars. 

 

The most special place Draco had taken her to, however, was Bavaria in Germany. Hermione had been awestruck by the state’s rich beauty, its history, the fairytale castle, the colourful houses, the many, many bars and pubs. This was where Oktoberfest was held and Draco promised he’d bring her back here one year so they could participate. One afternoon, he organised for them to have a private tour of Neuschwanstein castle. Hermione felt she had been transported straight into a Disney movie; the castle was almost magical and completely captivating. She could just imagine Sleeping Beauty — high up in one of the towers — awaiting her prince to come. 

 

That evening they travelled into the heart of Munich where they found a lively pub, with a German rock band blaring out onto the street and  _ a lot  _ of drunk locals drinking from Bierkrüge. It had been a wild night, the pair of them drunk off their arses as they made their way to the hotel Draco had booked. 

 

And that was another thing — the places they had stayed in. There was no expense spared where Malfoy was concerned — every hotel or guesthouse they’d been to had been luxurious with their nights spent eating at incredible restaurants, then fucking until the early hours. Draco had been the perfect gentleman during the days — the only exception being the library in Spain — but at night, when they were full up on sightseeing, food and drink, they’d crash into one another, exploring each other’s bodies until the sun rose. 

 

Hermione learnt that Draco was fluent in French, Spanish and Italian, whispering beautiful words into her ear, followed by the most outrageously filthy things he could think of. 

 

They would talk about everything — their childhoods, their dreams for the future — although, over the last few days, that had been a sticking point for Hermione. Draco wouldn’t commit to what he was going to do once their little tour of Europe was finished. Back in Spain, he’d asked her not to leave him, leading Hermione to assume they would be together no matter what. But, when she questioned whether he would be coming back to England with her at the end of summer, he just changed the subject. This was the only thing bugging Hermione — she couldn’t pinpoint what he actually wanted from her. Did he love her? Did he see this as just a summer of fun? One of those  _ remember when I spent the summer shagging that Muggle-born _ scenarios.

 

It worried her to think that she was giving everything to this man — her trust, her love, her… everything — just to have him  _ not _ return those feelings. The first night they had spent together — under the effects of the potion — they had said they loved each other. It must have been true because — according to Draco — the potion contained Veritaserum, but neither of them had uttered those words since. 

 

They still had a week left of their travels before Hermione would have to return to her apartment in London to ready herself for a new year teaching at Hogwarts. She would have to sit him down and have the ‘where is this going?’ conversation, but the thought of Draco not returning with her — and this all being over in a week — scared her senseless. She’d already been in love with Draco before he’d showed up in Amsterdam and now, after spending every waking moment together, she couldn’t imagine life without him.

 

“Where are we going next?” she asked the blond excitedly, watching him pack up his stuff. They’d spent the last three days in Germany and were now readying themselves for departure.

 

“Well, we’ve done a lot over the last few weeks and, with only a few days to go before  _ you _ have to leave, I thought we’d go to Blaise’s villa in Italy — it’s beautiful and secluded. A last week of relaxation and not doing much else. How does that sound?”

 

Hermione turned her head, frowning slightly and not wanting him to see her eyes shining with tears over his words…  _ only a few days to go before  _ you  _ have to leave. _

 

“Sure,” she answered automatically, “That sounds great, and you haven’t seen Blaise since we left Amsterdam. Will he be there?”

 

“Yes,” Draco answered cautiously, “That won’t be a problem, will it? Only the last time we spoke of Blaise, you wanted him to join us in bed.”

 

She cringed.

 

“Hermione,” Draco called, walking over to wrap his arms around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder. “I think we need to talk about this.”

 

Hermione spun in his hold, her arms reaching up behind his neck, fingering the fine blond strands at the nape.  

 

“I wasn’t serious, Draco. I was out of my mind on that potion, and booze, and lust. When you did that…” she blushed furiously, recalling that night. He’d been fucking her viciously, slamming into her, with two fingers in her arse at the time when she’d said, “Maybe we should get Blaise in here and do this properly.” 

 

“I… I didn’t know what I was saying. I would never have followed through, that’s not who I am.”

 

“But you  _ must _ have thought about it before. To even utter those words under the effects of the potion, there must’ve been some truth to them.”

 

She sighed, looking into his worried grey eyes. “Okay, yes, I’d thought about it before. But, Draco, thinking about it and acting it out are two entirely different things. Do I think that it would have been wild and animalistic? Yes, I do. But it’s a fantasy, Draco. It’s not something I would ever like to happen in reality.”

 

He seemed placated by her words and grinned. “I told him what you said and he was rather upset it didn’t happen. I think he’s always had a soft spot for you.”

 

“Well, I don’t feel that way about him. In fact, I hardly know Blaise to be honest, and there’s only one wizard I want anywhere near me in that capacity.”

 

Draco coughed nervously, stepping back from her reach. He rubbed his hand across his face, muttering, “Right, well, we’d better be off then.”

 

And there he went again, not wanting to commit anything to her. Hermione’s bright mood dipped suddenly, but she was determined to enjoy these last few days with him, even if it meant having to say goodbye at the end of it. 

 

She plastered on a fake smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and held her hand out for him. Their bags packed and the room tidied, Draco entwined their fingers and Disapparated them to Italy.

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

A/N: Thanks to LightofEvolution for the help with the German bits x 

  
  



	19. A Shock In Itlay

Chapter Nineteen

A Shock In Italy

~•~•~•~•~

 

Draco had been correct…  _ again! _

 

Italy was amazing; Blaise’s villa was nestled into the Tuscan landscape, completely secluded and miles from any other sort of civilisation. The villa itself was gorgeous, having an old world feel about it. Made from rectangular limestone blocks and the famous red terracotta tiles adorning the roof that Tuscany was famous for, it wasn’t as huge as Hermione thought it would be, with everything spread out over one floor. 

 

It was evening when they arrived, the sun setting slowly over the hills in the distance, casting the house in a dark orange glow. Lights shone from the arched windows, spreading across the ground and bathing the small garden in warm light. 

 

To Hermione, it gave the impression of a comfortable and welcoming home and she couldn’t wait to see the view in the morning. As they walked hand in hand up the short driveway, the front door opened to reveal Blaise, standing there with a huge grin.

 

“At last, I finally get  _ the _ Hermione Granger in my house.”  

 

“Don’t start, Zabini,” Draco snarled, feeling Hermione squeeze his hand reassuringly.

 

They stopped in front of the Italian wizard, Hermione putting on the sweetest _butter wouldn’t melt_ look on her face and saying, “Yes, you get me in your _house_ , Blaise, but it’ll only be Draco in my _bed_.”

 

Blaise chuckled, moving to place his arm around Draco’s shoulder and walk them inside. “Touché, Granger. Touché.”

 

All three of them laughed as Blaise led them from the living room, through the french doors and onto the patio at the rear of the property. Hermione sighed happily as she took in the garden area. They were standing on a huge limestone patio with a seating area to the left and kitchen space on the right. In front was a large swimming pool surrounded by loungers. Lush flowers and vegetation filled the area, giving the air a sweet floral aroma. The lighting was discreet with ornate sconces that blended in with the brickwork, bathing the patio in a golden light. From where she was standing, Hermione could just make out the Tuscan landscape, the last of the sun's rays disappearing over the hills in the distance. 

 

Blaise fetched them both a drink as they took their seats on the plush wicker furniture, smiling at one another.

 

“You like it?” Draco asked, stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing his feet at the ankle. He looked happy and relaxed as Blaise returned, handing Draco a glass.

 

“I do,” she replied quietly, also taking a glass from Blaise’s outstretched hand and thanking him before continuing, “You have a lovely home, Blaise. I can’t wait to see the view in the morning.”

 

“It really is something. I love this house,” he answered, taking a sip of his drink and sitting next to Draco, smiling at her opposite them. 

 

They chatted amiably for a while, Draco filling Blaise in on what they’d been up to and Hermione butting in with little details here and there. Dinner was eaten outside in the sultry evening air, the wine and conversation flowing freely. Hermione was quite drunk and began to lean against Draco’s shoulder, nodding off to sleep.

 

“So,” Blaise whispered, thinking Hermione was out for the count. 

 

“What?” Draco whispered back.

 

“Did you tell her?”

 

“No. Why would I? I told you it was a surprise.”

 

“But surely she’s asked what your plans are and—”

 

“She has inquired, yes, and I’ve been… well… vague about it, I suppose.”

 

“And what’s going to happen on Monday, when she has to go home?”

 

“I… actually haven’t thought that part through yet,” Draco replied, furrowing his brows in apprehension. 

 

“Well, you’d better figure it out before she starts to think you don’t want this… her… for the long haul.”

 

“I do know that, Zabini. I saw the look she gave me the other day when I dismissed the conversation about her having to leave soon. I have a few days yet,” he sighed, “I’ll work it out.”

 

“Well,” Blaise said, standing and stretching. “I hope for your sake you do. I wouldn’t want all of your hard work to have been in vain. Night, Malfoy.”  He turned to make his way back inside. 

 

Draco knew where his and Hermione’s room was, having spent nearly a year here immediately after his trial. But, for the moment, he sat back against the sofa, moving his witch until she was curled into his side, her head in the crook of his shoulder. He ran his fingers over and over her curls, the warmth of her seeping through his clothes and his chest, straight to his heart.

 

He loved this witch — more than anything — and, in a few days, she would know it as well.

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

Four days later, Hermione was completely blissed out, lying between Draco’s legs on one of the loungers, the afternoon Italian sun beating down upon them as Blaise floated around the pool on a lilo.    

 

They had done nothing except eat, drink, sleep and relax. Now, after another sumptuous lunch, the three were lazing around by the pool when Hermione felt a wave of nausea pass through her. She jumped up, her hand over her mouth as she ran inside to the toilet.

 

“Hermione,” Draco called out, “What’s wrong?” He ran after her, finding her bent over the loo being sick.  

 

She straightened back up, leaning against the wall. 

 

“It must have been something I ate. I suddenly felt so—” She couldn’t finish the sentence as her stomach roiled again and she dived for the toilet once more.  

 

When she’d finished, Draco lovingly and tenderly cleaned her up, helping Hermione down the hall to their room. Tucking her into bed, with a large glass of water next to her, he ran his fingers through her hair.

 

“How are you feeling now, love?” He asked soothingly.

 

“Rubbish,” she mumbled back from beneath the blanket. “I think I’m just going to sleep, Draco. You don’t need to stay. I’ll call if I need you.”

 

“Mmm hmm,” he replied non-committedly, having no intention of going anywhere while she was sick. He continued to gently finger her curls, lulling her into a light sleep as he watched her until little puffs from between her lips, followed by a quiet snore, told him she’d fallen asleep. 

 

He backed out of the room slowly and went to find Blaise.  

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

Hermione woke a couple of hours later in a panic. Her tummy felt calmer but her mind was freaking out. Shooting up into a sitting position, and taking deep breaths, she first searched the room for Draco. Not finding him, she reached across to the bedside table, picking up her wand and the glass of water. Drinking rapidly, she placed the glass back down, wiping her wet lips with the corner of the blanket. Her heart was beating erratically as she counted backwards in her head. A sudden weight dropped through her chest and into the pit of her stomach as the realisation dawned that her monthly period was late…  _ by ten days! _

 

_ Oh… fuck! _

 

Hermione lay back against the pillows and pulled her top up, exposing the flat of her belly. Pointing her wand and muttering an incantation, her heart temporarily stopped, her eyes bugging out as a wisp of blue smoke rose out of her abdomen and then dissipated into the air.

 

Dropping her wand down onto the bed, both hands subconsciously rubbed across her stomach as the word ‘pregnant’ flashed through her mind. She was fucking pregnant! That explained the sickness and, if she thought about it, she’d been quite tired lately, definitely sleeping more during the day. But she put that down to having done quite a lot over the last few weeks and eventually it had all caught up with her. She didn’t for one second think she could be pregnant, not until she’d woken from that dream where she’d been sitting by the Black Lake at Hogwarts, Draco next to her, cooing at a baby in her arms.

 

Well, this was definitely a plot twist in her life that she hadn’t imagined. And, if  _ she  _ was this shocked, she could just imagine how Draco was going to feel. The man couldn't even factor her into his plans for tomorrow, let alone nine months time. He’d turned every attempt she’d made to talk to him about the future around, ignoring the subject completely. It was clear he only saw this as a summer of fun.  _ She was on her own!  _

 

It took her all of a minute before she was up, grabbing her things, shrinking them down into her beloved beaded bag before dressing in her jeans, t-shirt, and trainers. She didn’t want Draco to feel coerced into staying with her because they’d been too far gone to remember contraceptive protection on that first crazy night together. She’d been deliberate in using the charm every time she’d been with him, but that first night hadn’t even registered in her mind. Why should he feel forced into raising this child with her? She wouldn’t do that to him. 

 

So instead, she would run. Going out there right now and telling him was a non-starter; to see that look of disappointment she was sure he’d show would break her heart. Needing some time to think, Hermione made the decision to go to Ginny’s. 

 

Grabbing her phone, she fired off a text to her best friend.

 

_ H: I’m coming home. Can I come and stay with you and Harry for a few days? _

 

_ G: What’s wrong? What’s happened? _

 

_ H: No time to explain. Can I come? I’ll tell you when I get there. _

 

_ G: Of course, you can. Just give me a few seconds to adjust the wards. Apparate into the kitchen. _

 

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure if Apparating was safe to do in her condition, but it was a risk she’d have to take. The only usable Floo was the one in the living room and going there was out of the question.

 

_ H: Thank you, Gin. One more thing… don’t tell ANYONE I’m there, please? I’m coming through in two minutes. _

 

Hermione bit at her nails, tapping her foot while waiting for the two minutes to pass so she could get out of there before Draco came to check on her. As the seconds ticked by, she remembered fragments of a conversation from the other night between Draco and Blaise after she’d passed out from too much wine. 

 

_ Shit!  _ She’d been drinking nearly every day they’d been together as well. She’d have to tell the healer when she saw one about the predicament she was in.

 

She’d heard them discussing Draco’s vagueness over making plans for their future together, remembering only snippets of conversation that solidified her decision to leave him. 

 

After what she thought had been around two minutes, she held her wand up and spun away from Italy, and from Draco.    __

 


	20. Running

Chapter Twenty

Running

~•~•~•~•~

 

Hermione Apparated straight into Ginny’s kitchen, landing just inside the doorway and stumbling slightly as nausea overcame her once again. Swallowing deeply, her hands on her knees, she raised herself up slowly and made her way over to a chair.

 

“Merlin, Hermione, you look awful. Here, let me help you,” Ginny exclaimed in shock at the state of her friend, moving to help her sit down before offering to make tea.

 

“Did he hurt you?” She blurted out, turning back to face Hermione now the kettle was on.

 

“What? No! No, of course he didn’t hurt me,” Hermione told her friend vehemently. “It’s just… that… well… oh, God.” The tears had started again — big, fat drops fell down her cheeks, dripping from her jaw as she swiped furiously at them with her sleeve.

 

“Hermione!” Ginny gasped in shock at how distraught she was, moving to wrap her arm around the sobbing witch. “Please tell me what’s wrong. I’m worried.”

 

Hermione looked up with tear-stained cheeks, her hands shaking in her lap.

 

“I’m pregnant, Gin.”

 

Ginny felt her mouth drop open in surprise; she definitely hadn’t been expecting _that_. She was just about to respond when knocking sounded at the front door, followed by Pansy’s voice.

 

“Ginny, you home? Wondered if you fancied shopping for the afternoon.”

 

Hermione looked worriedly at Ginny. “Please, Gin. No one can know I’m here right now.”

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll get rid of her.” Ginny gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze before closing the kitchen door behind her and dealing with Pansy.

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

“Where you going, Draco?” Blaise asked from his lilo.

 

“Just going to check on Hermione, see how she’s feeling. Maybe I’ll tell her that I’m at least coming back to London with her.”

 

~•~•~•~•~

 

Ginny came back into the kitchen a few minutes later as Hermione made the tea. Placing two steaming mugs down on the table, she asked how Ginny managed to get rid of Pansy so quickly.

 

“Told her Harry was on a rare afternoon off and we were getting busy. She soon buggered off.” Ginny laughed loudly, remembering the embarrassed look on her soon-to-be sister-in-law's face.

 

“Ginny, honestly,” Hermione laughed back, rolling her eyes at her friend’s antics.

 

After they’d stopped giggling the mood changed, Ginny looking seriously at Hermione.

 

“So, you’re pregnant?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Is that all you have to say? Yep?”

 

“It’s all I have right now, Gin. I feel numb. I’ve just run from Draco, without him even knowing yet.”

 

“And what are you going to do? I can’t see—”

 

“Please, Gin, don’t,” Hermione begged. “I literally found out fifteen minutes ago. I haven’t had time to pro—”

 

“But you've had enough time to think that Draco wouldn’t be interested, packed your stuff and legged it from him. Don’t you think that’s rather unfair? You’re not giving him a choice in the matter. Isn’t that what you used to scream at people who used to bad-mouth him? That he didn’t have a choice in the decisions that were thrust upon him during the war. And now, here you are, doing exactly the same thing.”

 

Hermione could always rely on Ginny to give it to her straight but right now, with her head a mess, she could really do without it.

 

“It’s not a choice, Ginny,” Hermione shouted. “It’s a fucking prison sentence. I’m not going to be the one to force him into raising a child he doesn’t want, with a woman he doesn't love. Don’t you get it?” She spoke a little calmer now, the fight disappearing, leaving her upset and tired. “He doesn’t love me, Ginny, and I won’t make him feel guilty over this. He has no choice anyway; I’m making it for him. I’m… I’m protecting him,” she lied outrageously.

 

“Yeah, Hermione. Of course you are,” the redhead replied snidely. “You're making this choice _for him._ Not because you think he’ll break your heart, which he won’t because Draco Malfoy is head-over-heels in love with you, even if you can’t see it. I—” She was interrupted once again by knocking at her door, only this time it wasn’t Pansy.

 

“Weasley? Potter? I know she’s in there. Open the door! HERMIONE.” The voice bellowed. “Please! Talk to me! I don’t understand what happened. Please, Hermione!”

 

“Shit,” Hermione breathed worriedly. “Draco. What the hell is he doing here? I can’t see him, Gin. Not at the moment, please,” she begged, clutching at Ginny's arm.

 

“Floo, now,” Ginny commanded, flying out of her chair and grabbing Hermione by the wrist to force her up. “Go to Harry's office, he won’t find you there. I’ll Floo when he’s gone.”

 

“Are you—”

 

“Yes, Hermione, I’m sure. I can handle the ferret. Now _go_.” Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, Ginny shoved Hermione into the hearth, throwing the powder in behind her and shouting out, “Harry Potter's Office, Ministry of Magic, London.”

 

Watching her friend disappear in a whoosh of green flames, Ginny then walked calmly to her door that was still being beaten upon by Draco, continuously calling for Hermione.

 

“Weaselette,” Draco sneered, “Where is she? I want to talk to her.”

 

“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy. Before you have the neighbours peeping out their windows —   _nosey bastards._ Come in, will you?” It wasn’t a question as Ginny pulled him into her entryway and pushed the door closed behind him.

 

After letting the frustrated and visibly upset wizard see for himself that Hermione wasn’t there, Ginny poured him a drink.

 

“Malfoy.” The tone with which she called made him look up with a querying eyebrow.

 

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and a little trust with what I’m about to tell you. Don’t make me regret it. But first, you answer this,” she looked at him fiercely, daring him to try and lie to her.

 

“How do you feel about, Hermione?”

 

He didn’t even hesitate before answering. “I love her, Weasley. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You know? Then why ask?”

 

“Pansy told me all about your plans when we got back from Amsterdam. I just wanted to hear it for myself before I say what I have to.”

 

“Well, now you know, so if you could shed some light on why Hermione has run away from me, I’d be most grateful.”

 

“Hermione thinks you don’t love her. She told me that she’s tried to talk to you over the last week or so about your plans for the future and you’ve ignored her. Now,” she raised her hand up to stop him from interrupting before continuing. “I know why you’ve done that — to throw her off the scent of what’s really going on. But this afternoon, she found something out that changed everything.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Draco replied, puzzled, “She was asleep in our room after being sick. I left her to rest and, when I went back to check on her, she’d gone. No note or anything. So what could she have possibly _found out?”_

 

“She’s pregnant, Malfoy.”

 

You could have heard a pin drop as Draco froze at those words.

 

“What?” he whispered a few moments later.

 

Ginny grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “I said she’s pregnant, Malfoy, with your baby. But she thinks you don’t love her so she's run here, not wanting to force or guilt you into anything.”

 

“Oh, my… I… umm…”

 

Ginny pulled a chair out for him before he fell down in shock. Slumping against the seat, he looked bewildered.

 

“Hermione’s pregnant? With my child? I’m going to be a… with my and Granger’s… I don’t believe it.”

 

“How do you feel about that, Malfoy?”

 

He contemplated the question for a moment before his brain kicked into gear with all he had to do. It would be cruel _not_ to run straight to Hermione now and tell her everything. But this news changed a few things and he needed to make sure everything was in place before going to her.

 

“Right, okay, first things first,” he said brightly, nodding and standing from the table.

 

“What are you up too, Malfoy?”

 

“Just rearranging a few things on my to-do-list. I’ve got to go but promise me something, Weaselette.”

 

“What?” she asked curiously. He seemed to be taking the news quite well considering.

 

“Please tell Hermione that I’ve gone back to Italy. Tell her you told me she said she doesn’t want to be with me and I accepted it, and went back.”

 

“That’s cruel, Malfoy. I don’t want her to suffer. She seemed pretty heartbroken to me.”

 

“I know but, trust me, it’s only for a few days. Keep her here, look after her for me, and promise me she’ll be on that train Saturday morning. Please?”

 

“Okay,” she acquiesced, “I’ll do that, Malfoy, although I’m not happy about it. I assume it’ll be worth it.”

 

“It will,” Draco replied, turning to leave.

 

“Ginny,” he called quietly, startling the witch by using her first name, and sincerely as well. She smiled broadly.

 

“Yes, Draco?”

 

“I’m going to be a father. I’m going to marry the fuck out of that witch and have lots of beautiful, smart, curly-haired blond babies with her. I’ll never hurt her. You know that, right?”

 

Ginny couldn’t help the smile that spread widely over her face at his words. Her best friend deserved nothing less than what this man was offering.

 

“Yeah, Malfoy. I know.”

  
  
  


 


	21. 1st September, 2001

Chapter Twenty-One

1st September, 2001

~•~•~•~•~

 

That Saturday morning was warm and bright. Draco awoke early, knowing today was going to be the first day of the rest of his life. 

 

He showered and dressed quickly, making sure — for a final time — that everything was in place. First, he Flooed home to confirm everything with his Mother that he’d spoken with her about over the last few days. 

 

Next he Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron for a quick breakfast and coffee, before making his way out onto Charing Cross Road and heading towards Kings Cross.

 

Being as discrete as he could, Draco made his way onto the correct concourse and looked around before moving through the wall between platforms nine and ten.  

 

What greeted him was the same as when he was a small boy — the big red engine was hissing white steam as children ran about everywhere, their harassed parents calling for them to return to their sides. House-elves were loading up the pile of trunks and bags onto the train as quickly as they could. It always amazed Draco how everything ended up being done on time, before the train departed. 

 

He weaved through the crowd, making his way to the far end of the train. Once it began moving, and he knew no one would be getting off, he’d search through the carriages until he found her. 

 

Ginny had texted him last night to let him know that Hermione would be going back to Hogwarts in the morning, so he knew she’d definitely be here somewhere. 

 

As the engine whistled and the release of the brakes made the train jolt forward, Draco began to walk. 

 

He received a few strange glances from some of the older students who recognised him but, other than that, he was mostly ignored. 

 

As he got to the carriage in the middle, he noticed little closed-off compartments with the Professors’ names above them. Continuing to walk he spotted only one door with a name glowing slightly, letting people know someone was in there.

 

_ Professor Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Head of House and Charms Professor.   _

 

His witch had got a promotion. She’d said over the summer that she thought McGonagall might ask her to become the Gryffindor Head of House now that the headmistress’ first replacement was retiring. 

 

He smiled proudly at the name before squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, pulling the door open and watching the shock on her face as he entered. 

 

“Dra-Draco,” she stuttered as he took a seat opposite. 

 

“Surprised to see me?” He asked, smirking as she took him in. 

 

He was more gorgeous than she remembered. The last few days had been hell. Once Ginny had told her what had been said between her and Draco — after Hermione had Flooed to Harry — she’d been distraught. She took to the bed in their spare room and didn’t leave it for two days — except to be sick, and shower. Her morning sickness had kicked in with a vengeance, only she seemed to get it around early evening rather than the actual morning. She had an appointment to see a healer this Friday afternoon when she knew she didn’t have a class to teach. 

 

“Ye-yes,” she stammered again, coughing and clearing her throat. “Yes, I’m surprised to see you, here. What are you—”

 

“Doing here?” He finished for her. “You ran off before I could tell you the good news. Well, no, actually, that’s a lie.” She frowned at him, not sure he was making any sense. 

 

The butterflies in her stomach were going crazy having him so near again. She’d missed Draco terribly, thought about nothing but him,  _ willed _ him to appear before her and now here he was, making no sense as he stumbled over what to say. 

 

“What I mean is...” he sighed frustratedly, running a hand through his platinum locks. 

 

“I had this whole surprise set up for you and it’s backfired spectacularly because I was too stubborn to see what was going on.”

 

“And what was going on, Draco?” She asked quietly. 

 

He looked up into the brown eyes he’d missed every day since she took off, unable to look away as he started at the beginning. 

 

“After the war, I ran. I ran from everything that had happened. I was that same coward again who couldn’t face up to any of it. As I’ve already told you, I spent the better part of a year getting drunk with Blaise at his villa. But, as time wore on, I knew a decision needed to be made in order to move on with my life, and so I made one,” he paused, reaching into his bag for the bottle of water he’d purchased on the way to the station. 

 

Hermione didn’t say anything. She just watched him as he drank and let him continue the story. 

 

“Every decision I’ve made since the day you were thrown at my feet by those filthy snatchers has been about you, Hermione.”

 

She gasped.

 

“I knew in that moment I would do anything to keep you safe. I realised that, what I’d been feeling all those years, wasn’t a hatred for you, or even Muggle-borns or Muggles in general. It was something else and when my aunt was doing—” he coughed at the difficult subject, “—what she did. I couldn’t let her hurt you. The thought horrified me but, by the time I’d made up my mind what to do, you caught my eye and shook your head. From that moment on I realised that I loved you, Hermione.” He watched her eyes widen at his declaration. 

 

“I also knew that I was no good for you in the state I was in. I had to rebuild myself as it were. I was far too messed up in the head, and I didn’t want to drag you down into my darkness. So after the trial, I fled. I grieved, I drank, I turned myself around. I discovered — after a lot of thought — that I still had an interest in potions, so I began researching and meeting Potions Masters all over Europe. I learned from the best and, six months ago, I passed the Masters’ exam.”

 

“Oh, Draco, that’s wonderful,” she couldn’t help congratulating him. What he’d achieved was brilliant and exciting for him. To become a Potions Master in less than five years was a rare thing. Only his godfather had achieved the same.

 

“Thank you. It really was hard work, but I got to work with some of the greatest Potions Masters of all time.”

 

“So, you weren't off shagging girls and having fun with Blaise then?” She teased. 

 

“No. Once I started studying and moving around, Blaise stayed in Italy. I’d go back there whenever I had some free time. I only told Pansy to tell you we were traveling around together and having a good time so you wouldn’t catch wind of what I was really up to. I had this whole plan set out in my mind — get my Masters’ qualification as quickly as possible, secure a job at Hogwarts to be close to you and begin my total seduction.”

 

Hermione blushed and giggled at his words. 

 

“But then Pansy mentioned that you girls would be in Amsterdam at the start of summer for a few days, so I changed the plan in order to spend the summer with you. It was all going fine until you started to question my motives and what I was going to do once you had to come back to England.”

 

“That wasn’t—”

 

“I know it wasn’t,” he interrupted her. “I know that me being a pig-headed, stubborn bastard made you question my feelings for you. I just thought, if I could hold out a while longer, then the surprise would have come this morning when we both boarded the train and I told you that I was the new Potions Professor. But then I went and knocked you up and the plan had to change again.”

 

“WHAT?” Hermione exploded. “You… you… know… about the…”

 

“Baby? Yes, Granger, I do.”

 

“But-but, how did you… Ginny!” She seethed, realising the truth. Ginny must have told him the day he turned up at their door. The day she had run from him. 

 

“Don’t be mad at the Weaselette; she did the right thing by telling me. And I’m not mad at you either.” Hermione stared at him skeptically, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“I’m not, honestly,” he repeated, holding his hands up and shrugging his shoulders. “It’s my own fault anyway; if I hadn’t been a prat, and you had known where you stood, you would’ve told me about the baby back in Italy.”

 

“Why didn’t you find me as soon as Ginny told you?”

 

“I had things to work out first.”

 

“Like?”

 

He grinned, moving to sit down next to her, taking her hands in his. She looked up, waiting for him to continue. 

 

“I came to speak to McGonagall first — arranged a few things with her. Then I spent a couple of days with my mother sorting out a few  _ more _ issues.”

 

“Such as?” She pushed. 

 

“Well, where we're going to live for a start.”

 

“We?” She exclaimed. 

 

“Yes, we. We’ll both be working at the school and you’re carrying my child. Plus, there’s the small matter of me being irrevocably in love with you, so, yes, we need to live in the same house and sleep in the same bed.” He was interrupted by Hermione’s lips meeting his in a bruising kiss. 

 

When she pulled back, her look nearly killed him — the passion and love and complete wonderment was clear on her face and in her bright brown eyes. 

 

“I love you, Draco. God, I love you so much. I’m so sorry I ran; I was scared, and frightened, and confused, I—”

 

“Hush, Granger, it’s fine,” he told her, placing a finger against her lips. “Today is a fresh start for both of us — a clean slate, if you will. When we get off the train, we’ll go about the normal procedure. McGonagall has given us tomorrow off as it’s Sunday and I can show you the house I picked for us. It’s just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade so we’re close to Hogwarts. It has its own garden and the nearest neighbour is a mile away.”

 

“Draco.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Stop talking,” she demanded as she pressed her mouth to his once again. All she’d ever dreamed of was right here in this carriage with her — her whole future, the love of her life, their unborn child… her everything. 


End file.
